


no one else can wear your crown

by softtofustew



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Chronological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25242742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softtofustew/pseuds/softtofustew
Summary: the one where seungmin, the heir to the throne, and changbin, the best friend to the crown prince (and who possesses unworldly powers) work together to unravel a traitorous scheme – and maybe fall in love in the process.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Kim Seungmin/Seo Changbin
Comments: 31
Kudos: 171
Collections: STRAY KIDS BIGBANG: 2020





	no one else can wear your crown

**Author's Note:**

> u ever just get a 15k word minimum and double that? ye. hope u enjoy !!
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5V9DjQRTcD8NWm755YpYgm?si=NimffeHbS42HWU95PtnF3w) // [the art by georgia!](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1TEnuU6o-i-p9_FTMHZVGKKs4hf_7Njx1/view?usp=sharing)
> 
> [edited: 13/09/2020]

Every night passes like clockwork. Tonight, Seungmin’s hand grazes the top of the tapestry softly, feeling the texture against the flat of his palm. When he peers up, he sees the gentle eyes of his father, the curl of the smile of his mother. 

If he squints a little bit more, he swears he can see his father blinking back at him.

“Your Honour.” At this, Seungmin swivels around so sharply he trips over his sleeping robe. He swallows a squeak and trips over his feet. Jeongin hurriedly rushes to his side and steadies him. “I’m sorry to surprise you, Your Honour!”

“Innie,” Seungmin exhales. “You can drop the honorifics, y’know. We’re the only people down this hallway.”

Jeongin clears his throat. “Right!” he chirps. His eyes are bright and innocent, so full of life and colour. Being the youngest boy working in the castle, Seungmin has developed an affinity for the boy, who he’s found a friend in. They’re almost the same age, too; most of the other caretakers are at least a decade older than the both of them.

“So what did you want to tell me?” Seungmin asks. He turns back to face the tapestry. The swirls of colour twirl and intertwine in his vision. His eyes land on his own baby face painted on the cloth, the round brown eyes and full cheeks. He’s perched on his mother’s lap, his hand holding his father’s in a tight vice grip.

Seungmin’s hands curl into fists by his sides. 

Jeongin doesn’t seem to notice, though. “I’ve come to deliver a message from your uncle. He says that you’re needed for the meeting with all the advisors tomorrow morning at nine sharp, to present to you the details of the coronation ball. And the dinner party the night before, too.”

The prince glances over at Jeongin, at his bright eyes and eager smile. “Thank you,” he says. “Also, Jeongin.”

The caretaker cocks his head sideways cutely. “Yes, Your High- I mean, uh, Seungmin?”

Seungmin grins. “If you had a choice to, would you rather work here in the castle, or out there in the town?”

Surprised by the question, Jeongin’s cheeks flush bright pink as he hastily fumbles through his words. “What are you saying, Seungmin? I’ll always be working here; my parents were under _your_ parents’ care during their reign, and after all, I-”

“-hypothetically speaking,” Seungmin interrupts, “you were here out of your own will. Would you want to continue working here for the rest of your life, or live out there in the town amongst the townsfolk?”

A veil of silence falls over the two boys for a long moment. Eventually, Jeongin smiles. “When I first started out here, I didn’t want to work here, really,” he says slowly. “Mum and dad always said how your parents had helped them, given them a place to live, given them water and food, and in return they worked for your family. They always said I had to return the favour, and I had to work here for life. I used to hate it here, but after I made friends with you…” he chuckles, “well, it goes without saying that I have no regrets working here.”

“Even if you’re only allowed to go out once a month to town?” Seungmin persists.

Jeongin taps a finger against his chin. “Hm… That’s something to look forward to every month. I don’t think that’s necessarily bad.”

Seungmin looks at Jeongin. He wants to say something else, but the question dies in his throat when he notices how Jeongin’s gaze is averted. Of course. Seungmin pats the boy’s shoulder with a smile. “Okay, that’s all. You may go now.”

“Of course, Seungmin.” Jeongin turns and stalks off the corridor, leaving Seungmin alone in the hallway. 

Not long after, he can hear a boy sniffling and crying into his arms just beyond the bend in the corridor. 

Seungmin sighs, turns on his heel and walks off. He doesn’t blame Jeongin for not wanting to be here - hell, even _Seungmin_ doesn’t want to be here. 

He hurriedly takes the stairs two at a time to the third floor. As soon as he reaches his bedroom door, he glances around several times on the lookout for any caretakers, before slipping into his room and promptly locking the door behind him. He slips off his shoes (the pointed tips make his toes ache so _horrendously_ ) and pulls his sleeping robe off. He yanks on a shirt, tucks them into a pair of velvet pants, and dashes to the windows.

Breathlessly, Seungmin shoves the window open and lets the summer breeze rush into his room, ruffling up his hair. He inhales sharply, the sweet scent of greenery filling his nostrils. Without much hesitance, he clambers onto the windowsill. His eyes dart across the lawn below him, and within seconds, he catches sight of the man waving up at him. Even in the dark of the night, the moonlight glints off of the man’s dark eyes, as if to beckon him closer.

Seungmin waves back enthusiastically. He watches the man laugh and raise an arm. With a flourish, Seungmin feels a familiar thrum in his nerves, rushing down his bloodstream to the very tips of his fingers. He giggles at the tickle, and within seconds, he’s floating in the air. He savours the wind in his hair as he drifts down carefully to the ground. With every passing second, he nears closer and closer to the man grinning back up at him-

-and Seungmin lands unceremoniously on his backside with a _whump!_

“Sorry!” the man chuckles sheepishly. “I’m still working on the landing.”

Seungmin dusts himself off as he scrambles to his feet. He grins back at the other, a familiar warmth emanating from his chest. “I’ll trust you on that, Changbin.”

Changbin dips his head down, before peering back up. His eyes glint under the moonlit night. “Whatever you ask for, Your Highness.”

♕♕♕

It hadn’t always been like this. Back when Seungmin was a little kid, when Seungmin’s parents still reigned the kingdom together, going out to the town was almost a daily thing. Seungmin savoured the taste of freedom from the four walls of the castle, and out into the hustle and bustle of the townspeople in the markets and shops.

Ten-year-old Seungmin bounded down the cobblestone pathway, holding onto both his parents’ hands with a gleeful smile on his face. All the townspeople were so friendly, waving hello to the king and queen (accompanied by much cooing from the aunties and elderly ladies. Seungmin pretended that it didn’t affect him, but his flushed cheeks always betrayed him.)

The market that day was busy, with everyone scuttling about in preparations for Alta’s Annual Summer Festival, where the townsfolk gathered together to watch dancing and singing performances, perform traditional rituals and pray to the sun gods together. Little Seungmin loved the festival for all those reasons, but mainly because they always served the sweetest lemonade.

His father tugged him close to his side, squeezing his hand. Seungmin glimpsed up at him. “Dad?” he asked. “Where are we going today?”

His father glanced down at him, a gentle smile perched on his lips. “We’re meeting with the seer today, so you can go and play with Changbin, alright?”

At the sound of his friend’s name, Seungmin’s eyes lit up considerably brighter. “I can play with Changbin? Really?”

His mother chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Yes, dear, but let’s not have the both of you venture too far out again, alright? We don’t wanna send out our soldiers to forage the forest for you both.”

“Aye aye, captain!” Seungmin chorused. 

They meandered through the throngs of townspeople in the busy marketplace, greeting and waving at the folk along the way. Eventually, they reached the quieter side of town. Here, Seungmin could hear the footsteps of the soldiers guarding them clearly against the cobblestone pathway. He sneaked a look at one of the guards in training, Bang Chan, who he’d befriended a while back when he’d first started out. Being seven years older than him and the youngest guard yet, he and Chan had instantly clicked.

Chan sneaked Seungmin a glance, and smiled amiably at him. Seungmin liked Chan’s aura, the way he carried himself, the way he was brave and courageous enough to take on this challenge of being a soldier. Seungmin secretly wished he was half as gutsy as Chan was.

The queen, the king, and the prince, with their small army of guards, traipsed down alleys that winded further and further away from the heart of Alta, and closer and closer to the outskirts of the town where the forest resided. Beyond the forest, the mountainscape stretched across the expanse of Seungmin’s vision. He glanced up in awe of the snow-capped mountains, wondering what it’d be like to stand at the summit and look down at everyone below.

The terrace cottages built side by side to each other disappeared step by step behind them, and eventually, they finally spotted the lone cottage at the end of the cul-de-sac. It’d been a long walk, and Seungmin could feel the sweat dotted across his forehead begin to roll down the side of his face. He always wondered why his parents refused to take the carriage, but then he remembered how his parents preferred walking and meeting with the other townspeople face-to-face on the same level instead. 

“That way,” his father always advised, “you can connect with your people. What’s the point of being a king when you don’t even know who’s who in your kingdom?”

At the front door stood a little figure, a dark-haired boy with even darker eyes. As soon as the boy spotted the small group walking towards them, the boy turned his head and yelled over his shoulder, “Grandpaaaa! They’re here!”

Seungmin felt excitement course through his veins. It’d been a while since he’d last seen Changbin - his hair’s grown even longer, grazing past the nape of his neck now. He had on a ruffled jacket that looked a size too big for him, a white shirt and worn jeans. When they reached the gates, Changbin bounded right after his grandfather down the walkway to meet the king, the queen and the prince.

“Your majesties,” the seer greeted politely, his head hung low in courtesy. “It is a pleasure to have you all in our humble dwelling.”

Seungmin’s father reaches out a hand, and Changbin’s grandfather takes it and gives him a firm shake. “Please, allow me to usher you to the kitchen; my wife and I have prepared this splendid chrysanthemum tea this morning.”

The king nodded. “Thank you so much for accepting our request,” he said. “Would it be alright with you if Changbin and Seungmin carried on by themselves?”

“Not to worry,” the seer smiled. Seungmin watched the seer as he gestured for his parents to enter the cottage. He looked so much like Changbin - or, rather, Changbin looked a lot like his grandfather. The seer’s hair was a silky white, trailing past his shoulders and brushing against the velvet of his shirt. His hands were knobbly, but seemed to be gentle with every small movement he made, be it shaking his father’s hand or turning the doorknob open. There was care and precision in everything he did…

… Unlike Changbin, of course.

“Seungmin!” The boy rushed up to Seungmin’s side. He groaned. “Did you grow taller again?”

“Sure did,” Seungmin smirked. He puffed his chest out proudly like a rooster. “A whole centimeter!”

“Unfair!” Changbin complained. Then, as if he remembered something, his ears perked up. “Oh, oh! While you were gone, I discovered something amazing.”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Even more amazing than… _that_ time?”

Changbin nodded his head eagerly. “Yes! Now, c’mon; we’ve gotta go somewhere more secluded.”

Seungmin spared a glance at the guards, but he noted the way Chan simply nodded his head, as if to say “go on”. “Alright, let’s go!”

With a skip of his heart, Seungmin slipped his hand into Changbin’s as they hurried past the cottage, beyond the lawn, and leapt over the creaky wooden fences. The grass squelched under Seungmin’s polished shoes, and he knew his mother was going to nag at him for causing trouble for the cleaners yet again, but in that place in time, he didn’t care. All he cared about was the hand in his and the thrum of warmth that enveloped the two boys as they dashed into the forest just a stone’s throw away from Changbin’s home.

They ducked under an oak tree, hidden perfectly from view. “Here.” Changbin let go of Seungmin’s hand, and wiped his palm on his pants. “Geez, your hand’s so sweaty.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Now, what’s this amazing thing that you discovered while I was gone?”

The dark-haired boy threw his head back to laugh. “Patience, young one,” he said cryptically. Before Seungmin could protest, Changbin crouched down beside some dandelions crowded under an old oak tree. 

With widened eyes, Seungmin watched on in shock as the other boy waved a hand in the air. He watched on as Changbin squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated hard. Then, as if the energy slipped from his fingers, the stems of the dandelion softened and drooped downwards. The bright yellow petals shrivelled up into an unsettling black. The little leaves curled upwards, dry and yellowed.

“Y-you’re killing it!” Seungmin stammered.

“Hush,” Changbin shushed him lightly. He opened his eyes slowly, and _pushed._ The energy surged from a leaking faucet to an overflowing waterfall, and the flowers bloomed again. The stem snapped upwards, taut and rigid. The flowers regained their yellow bloom, and the leaves turned a happy shade of green. 

Changbin exhaled long and low as his energy ebbed away. Seungmin gazed on as his shoulders gradually relaxed. “So? Was that cool or what?”

Seungmin shook his head, amazed beyond words. “You… were killing it.”

“Yes.”

“But you brought it back to life.”

Changbin shrugged, as if it weren’t a big deal. “Eh, not that hard.”

Seungmin leaned closer. “Does… does it work on humans?”

“I… don’t know,” Changbin answered hesitantly. “Grandpa said not to try that at all. Wrecks the balance of life and death and all that.” He carefully brushed his finger along the guidelines of the flower petals. From this angle, Seungmin watched how Changbin’s eyes seemed to scintillate under the sun seeping through the branches of the trees overhead. There’s nothing particularly interesting about his eyes - they’re a normal, dark brown. And yet, they looked like they were shot with life, right in the centremost of his irises.

From the day he’d laid his eyes on Changbin, he’d known there was something that made him different from anyone else he’d ever met. He’d held this grand presence - still does - with an air of unwavering confidence, with a tinge of coldness that melted away when he’d taken his hand in Seungmin’s. 

When Changbin’s eyes met his, Seungmin averted his gaze. He felt his cheeks burn in shame. “I, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Gosh, it’s so _hot_ here-”

“-did the heir to the throne of the kingdom of Alta just _check me out?_ ” Changbin gasped mockingly. He placed a hand over his chest and sighed overdramatically. “Oh, what an honour to serve the prince’s heart!”

Seungmin huffed. “I was _not_ ‘checking you out’, whatever that is,” he muttered irately, feigning obliviousness. “Besides, it’s… it’s-”

“-what?” Changbin cut him off. “Forbidden?”

Seungmin blinked at him. “Is it not?”

Changbin snorted. He leant back against the trunk of the tree, his eyes curved up into a pair of crescents. “Listen up, little prince-”

“-I’m only a year younger than you, y’know-”

“-there’s no such thing as forbidden love,” Changbin grinned. “Your fairytales are all messed up, little prince. Since when was it wrong to love who you want to love?’

“I don’t love you.”

Changbin’s eyes twinkled even brighter. “I didn’t accuse you of that,” he corrected. He sat up a little straighter, smoothed down the creases on his shirt. “But I meant what I said. What’s with the forbidden love between boys and boys or girls and girls? It’s madness, grandpa says.”

“Your grandpa said that?” Seungmin leaned closer, interested. The seer, both respected and feared by the general public, seemed to know the answers to everything. Living up to his name, the seer was said to be almighty, a know-it-all, who struck fear in the bad men and imparted knowledge upon the good-hearted. His parents occasionally seeked him for advice - just as they were doing then. “What else did he say?”

“He foresaw the future,” Changbin quipped. “Said that a forbidden love in the higher ups would send the kingdom crumbling to ruins.”

Seungmin’s eyes widened like saucers. “Really? When? When’s that going to happen?”

Changbin cast him a forlorn look. It seemed as if he held the answer in his eyes - but if he did, it never went to his lips. “I don’t know, little prince. I don’t know.”

In the distance, the bluebirds, perched atop the branches of a nearby oak tree, chirped a little song. Perhaps they sang a song for the little prince and his little friend. 

♕♕♕

The Castle of Alta is renowned for its expansive garden, where the most prestigious of balls and outdoor dinner parties are held. Overlooking the seas that stretch for miles on end, it’s certainly the perfect place for gatherings, especially when the sun begins to dip beyond the horizon, inviting the moon to take its place in the spotlight.

But between Seungmin and Changbin, the perfect place is the maze of roses in the expansive garden. They traipse past the night guards on watch, slip into the maze, and sneak into the centremost of the maze. The pathways are narrow, and Seungmin usually finds an arm brushing against the trimmed bushes on one side, the other arm grazing Changbin’s own as their hands remain intertwined. 

Eventually, they reach the middle of the maze. The small fountain guzzles water, frothing at the edges prettily. Under the moonlight, the water reflects white and blue akin to that of diamonds. Changbin removes his ruffled overcoat and splays it out on the grass, right next to the edge of the fountain. With a gentle pat, he gestures for the prince to sit beside him.

Seungmin smiles, and does as told. As soon as he’s seated comfortably, the both of them tilt their heads up to the night skies. Water droplets spray onto the top of Seungmin’s head, but he doesn’t mind.

“How’s your granddad doing?” Seungmin whispers.

Changbin hums. “He’s okay. The headaches are getting more frequent, though. Slightly worried.”

Seungmin sighs deeply, and closes his eyes. “I could fetch the nurse-”

“-don’t,” Changbin cuts him off sternly. “Your coronation’s in a week. I don’t want you to get into all that trouble and risk your most important day.”

“You think I’m not at risk right now?” Seungmin says half-jokingly. “I literally sneaked out of my bedroom, floated in the air to the ground, and now I’m here in the middle of the maze with all my guards swarming the grounds. I’m breaking at least ten different rules right now!”

There’s a moment of silence, until Changbin snorts. “What a nerdy rule abider,” he teases lightly.

Seungmin rolls his eyes. He draws his knees closer and hugs them tight to his chest. “What about you? How’re you doing now?”

Changbin shrugs. “I suppose I’m doing alright,” he replies with a blank look on his face. 

Seungmin knows not to intrude, but a part of him can’t help but wonder. He yearns to lean closer and beg for Changbin to spill his heart open, transparent, leaking to the grass and staining the ends of his clothes. He yearns to know more, but he knows not to intrude - especially when the other’s words are spoken through half-hearted shrugs and lips pressed thin.

Instead, he glances back up at the sky. “Changbin.”

“Hm?”

Seungmin swallows a bundle of nerves clogging his throat. “Is there… is there anything you’d want to change about your life?”  
“Plenty,” he replies almost immediately. “Plenty of things.”

“Like?”

Changbin huffs. “I’d change the fact that I can’t see you whenever I want. I’d change the fact that my grandparents and I are banished from this kingdom. I’d change the fact that my grandpa was the cause of your parents’ deaths all those years ago. I’d change so many things, you can’t imagine it.”

Tears threaten to spill from the corners of Seungmin’s eyes, and he hurriedly wipes them away with the back of his palm. “You can’t just _say_ that…”

Changbin gives a lopsided half-grin, the kind that makes Seungmin want to pinch his cheek adoringly. “It’s a free nation.”

 _Not really,_ Seungmin wants to say. _It’s not a free nation, and you know that as well as I do._

Seungmin relents, giving in to those pervading thoughts in his mind - he leans his head against Changbin’s broad, broad shoulder. From the looks of it, you’d think his shoulders were hard and solid, like sleeping on a wooden floor, but in fact the curve of muscle there is soft and perfect; Seungmin’s head fits snugly right there, and he appreciates that little fact.

Sometimes, these nights are filled with much light-hearted conversation, small talk, little jokes and perhaps a little song or two. Sometimes, these nights are filled with Changbin’s magic, as he manipulates the gravitational pull on the water and flicks droplets of water against an agitated Seungmin’s face. 

Other times, like tonight, these nights are filled with comfortable silence, knowing that the boy beside him is an exile, a kingdom’s criminal, a prodigy with powers that could take the world by storm, knowing that the boy beside him is his anchor, his shoulder to lean on.

With the sound of the crickets chirping in the distance, Seungmin easily slips into a deep sleep. And when he awakes, he’ll find himself tucked into his bed, with the fading burn of a kiss left on the nape of his neck.

♕♕♕

Seungmin tries not to nod off during the meeting, but it’s _so hard._ Thank goodness Jeongin intervenes in the middle of the meeting to serve a round of drinks, and drops off a strongly-brewed coffee for him. He offers the caretaker a grin before taking a sip, allowing the effects of the caffeine to kick in.

There’s much talk about the guest list, the food to be served, the castle decorations, the media, the press, the outfits, the robes, even the colour of the fucking _curtains_ \- Seungmin simply sits there like a good, well-mannered king-in-waiting, nodding away and offering small comments on a few details here and there, but mostly his mind wanders elsewhere as the advisors continue prattling away.

“Your Honour.” Seungmin snaps out of his trance, his eyes instantly meeting his uncle’s. The head advisor arches an eyebrow at his nephew in distaste, clearly ticked off by Seungmin’s disinterest. “We have finished relaying all the planned details. Is there anything that should be altered?”

Seungmin gulps, then shakes his head. “No,” he answers shakily at first. He clears his throat, and replies again, this time firmer, “No. Uh, the meeting has been adjourned.”

All the advisors scrape their chairs against the marble floors as they hurriedly scramble to retrieve their stacks of files and innumerable documents and papers. As soon as the last advisor has left the meeting room, his uncle turns to face him. A disapproving line settles on his lips. 

“Seungmin, we’ve talked about this before,” Sangchul begins.

Seungmin sighs. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m just… tired.”

Noticing his nephew’s expression, Sangchul’s face softens considerably. “Sorry for being so harsh. I shouldn’t be, not when your coronation’s in a week. It must be a lot of pressure on you.”

“Yeah.”

With Seungmin’s eyes still trained on his shoes, he hears his uncle clear his own throat. “Alright, I’ll best be on my way. Don’t forget about the fitting after lunch at three, and your French class at four.”

“Right,” Seungmin nods jerkily. “Thank you.”

Sangchul pats his shoulder gently, before turning on his heel and exiting the room, leaving Seungmin alone. He’s about to pick up his mug and leave when the door squeaks open to reveal Jeongin.

“Oh!” he squeaks. “Sorry for intruding; I thought everyone left already.”

Seungmin chuckles. “It’s alright, carry on.”

Jeongin rolls in a metal tray, with a washcloth sitting atop it. As Jeongin begins busying himself, clearing the cups and empty plates, Seungmin can’t help but take up the cloth and scrub at the pine wood table.

At this, Jeongin squeaks. “What are you doing, Your Honour? I’ve got everything covered!” he insists, instinctively reaching out to make a grab for the cloth. He almost trips over his own feet as Seungmin retracts his arm, clutching the cloth close to his chest. “Your Honour, I-”

“-I can help, Jeongin,” Seungmin insists. “Just because I’m a prince doesn’t mean I can’t help wipe a freaking table.”

Jeongin sighs, dusting himself off. “Still. What’s the head gonna say if he caught me letting you do the chores? It doesn’t matter what you say - he’ll have me castrated!” He dumps the plates and cups onto the tray with a sharp _chink!_ and grabs another cloth to help wipe the long table. 

Seungmin snorts. “Don’t make it seem as if it’s _that_ hard to speak to Minho.”

Jeongin shudders. “You don’t know what happens right before serving dinner, Min, and I doubt you’d want to know.”

Soon enough, the table is scrubbed clean. Seungmin hands Jeongin the cloth back with a smile and helps him open the door wide. As Jeongin wheels the cart out of the meeting room, the prince tries his toughest to clamp down his mouth - but the words leak out, anyway. “Jeongin? Isn’t today your market day?”

The caretaker swivels around, his hair bouncing before flopping back down. “Uh, I offered Felix to go in my place? There’s a lot of stuff to cover for the pre-coronation dinner party, so I volunteered to help head one of the main portions, you know?”

There’s something sad traced in his forced smile. Seungmin wishes he could smoothen it out. “Are you sure that’s the only reason?”

Jeongin frowns, but his reddening ears are a dead giveaway. “Um… yes?”

Seungmin swallows. “I know you go to the market every 15th. You’re happiest then. Why-”

“- _because,_ ” Jeongin blurts out. With shaky eyes, he locks his gaze with Seungmin’s. “Because every time I step foot out of this place, the more I want to be out _there_ , the more I want to live out there, the more I want to be a _part_ of the town. The greedier I get, the worse things become.” 

He presses his lips together in a deep line, and lowers his head. “Sorry… for that. I’m… gonna go now,” he whispers with trembling lips.

Seungmin lets him go. He watches Jeongin’s slumped figure roll the cart down the long corridor, before disappearing around the corner. Every memory is a searing burn etched into both boys’ minds and hearts. 

Jeongin could just run away. Away from this history that’s left ingrained in his head and heart. Away from this prison that’s never been the same, ever since the death of the king and queen. But Seungmin knows there’s iron chains tying him down by the ankles, and he knows Jeongin would never, ever go against his own principles.

And the same goes for Seungmin.

♕♕♕

When Seungmin was fifteen, his parents had seeked advice from the seer once more. This time, the two merry boys had ventured deeper into the forest, hidden away by the thickening undergrowth and the untamed bushes. Here, in this part of the forest, was where Changbin could show off his powers to Seungmin, the only person in the world other than his grandparents who knew about his powers.

It’d been quite a while since he’d last met Changbin. He’d been busy with his lessons, much too busy to follow his parents on their town walks. When he’d overheard his parents discussing a visit to the seer, he’d leapt to his feet in hot pursuit of his tutor, before almost begging to reschedule his class so he could tag along. He’s still not sure what compelled him to style his hair in front of the mirror for a good ten minutes, or what compelled him to wear his best-fitting pants that emphasised the length of his legs. (He hoped, at least.)

He’s not sure what made his heart race when Changbin grinned at him lazily and reached a hand out for him to take ahold of, or what made his nerves bundle up in his gut when Changbin looked right into his eyes and said-

“-what is _up_ with you today?” Changbin drawled. He tilted his head sideways, a smirk stretched across his lips. “You’re not paying attention to a thing I’m saying, right?”

Seungmin flushed. “I-I’m listening,” he stuttered.

Changbin threw his head back in a laugh. Here they were, sat under a shady oak tree. All around them, the autumn leaves of yellow, ochre, red and gold scraped against the ground in a disarray, kicked up by the chilly breeze. Seungmin wrapped his coat tighter around his body, but the one he’d donned was more for style rather than purpose (again, he’s not sure what compelled him not to grab his other coat, but that’s a question he’ll have an answer for later on).

Noticing this, Changbin shrugged off his own ruffled coat, the same one he’d been wearing for five years now. He’d grown into it, the jacket now snug on his broadening shoulders and torso. “Here,” he offered.

Seungmin took it sheepishly. “Thanks,” he answered, “but won’t you get cold?”

Changbin chuckled. “Not when you’re beside me,” he cooed. 

Fuck. Recently, Changbin had been doing a lot of… _that._ Teasing, flirting, light touches that drove Seungmin _insane_. Something as minute and inconspicuous as a graze of their knuckles could send him fumbling over his words. At least he had the excuse of the cold of the autumn to cover up his blushing face now. 

Seungmin slipped the jacket on, and relished in how it carried the scent of axe spray, cinnamon and light sweat. “I’ve never asked you this, but where’d you get this jacket?” Seungmin asked. 

The other boy leaned back against the tree trunk and tilted his head up to the sky. “Mm… I was clearing out the attic one day so many years ago - maybe when you were ten? I remember wearing it for the first time ever when you and your parents came to visit. I asked Grandpa whose it was, and I assumed it was his.”

His eyelashes fluttered, before his eyelids slid shut. “This jacket’s my dad’s. And… I feel this sort of weird sentiment towards it, y’know? I don’t know what my parents were like, don’t know what my parents sounded like or looked like at all, so it’s strange that I… that I miss them.”

There’s a hoarse rawness to his voice that made Seungmin so fascinated by his words. “Could you… could you tell the story again? Of how you might’ve gotten your powers?”

Changbin’s eyes flew open once more, the dark pupils piercing straight through Seungmin’s heart like Robin Hood’s arrow - swift and sharp. “Get yourself comfy,” he hummed.

As soon as Seungmin settled into a comfortable position, Changbin sat up a little straighter and grinned. “Once upon a time, about seventeen years ago, my father and mother decided to celebrate my mother being pregnant with me. My father took my mother on a cruise across the tumultuous seas to Alaska, a snow-covered land where the sun only shines a few hours a day. 

“They were there on time to watch the glorious aurora borealis - there had been rumours of an especially special sight around that time, and they were so taken by the colours of blue and purple and gold in the skies that they barely noticed the shooting stars.

“But those were no shooting stars. They were meteors, hurtling dangerously close to earth. So close, that my parents, their friends, and another odd stranger or two could feel the heat emanating from the atmosphere. A few meteorites, little itty bitty bits, landed on my father, who was shielding my mother.”

A leaf fell down, swirling in the air before landing atop Changbin’s head. The boy took up the leaf with deft fingers, and twirled it around by the petiole. “But all was supposedly well. That is, until my father began showing signs of radiation poisoning.

“The doctors here back then had little training; they didn’t know what to do. He was nauseous, vomiting, body aching and red for weeks. About a month before my mother gave birth to me, he died.”

Changbin cracked his knuckles. Beyond that, the only sounds were the chirping of nearby insects and the rustle of the leaves in the trees. After a short pause, he continued. “My mother showed signs as well, but not as severe. With much care and devotion, maybe she could survive, the doctor said. All was well until she died giving birth to me. Postpartum bleeding. The midwife was untrained.”

Another leaf fell, this time on Seungmin’s shoulder. The commoner plucked the leaf from the little prince’s shoulder and smiled gently at it. “My grandpa thinks my powers derive from the ionising radiation, affecting the structure of my DNA, whatever that is. He calls it a blessing and a curse, but he also calls it the balance of life. When a miracle is born, another one must pass. It’s a curse that my parents died, but a blessing that I survived.”

Seungmin’s eyes slid down, from the commoner’s hair, down to the slope of his nose, to his cheeks, his lips, his clavicles. Every inch of this boy was a miracle born, and Seungmin felt a thrum in his chest. “Do you think so?”

“Think what?”

“That you’re a blessing.”

Changbin shrugged. “No one knows about my powers. Not like I can go around blessing people, y’know? Sometimes I don’t get it - I’ve got powers, and for what use? Help me grab a snack from the kitchen while I’m lying down on my bed?”

Seungmin frowned. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Changbin affirmed. He slumped down against the tree trunk, until his back was flat against the grassy grounds, his head tilted up so their eyes met. Looking at Changbin from above was somewhat… jarring. Every feature, every expression on that face was amplified ten thousand times. Seungmin suppressed the sudden urge to run a hand through Changbin’s soft dark hair. 

Seungmin opted to take up a leaf and shred it into half. “But you _are_ a blessing. You’re my friend.”

“You sound pretty naive for a fifteen-year-old, little prince,” Changbin pointed out.

“I’m optimistic, not naive,” Seungmin huffed. “And it’s true. I mean, there’s Jeongin and Felix and Chan, but they always treat me as someone superior to them-”

“-probably because you technically _are_ the prince, after all-”

“-but you… you treat me like I’m just somebody else,” Seungmin finished. “And I like that.”

The wind kicked up again. This time, Changbin’s hair splayed across his eyelids. This time, Seungmin brushed the boy’s hair back with slender fingers. 

This time, Changbin’s cheeks were set aflame.

“Isn’t that a bit inappropriate?” Changbin mumbled.

The little prince smiled down at the commoner boy with his strange, strange powers. “No,” he said. “No, not at all.”

♕♕♕

The fitting goes somewhat well, though Seungmin feels stiff as a stone from trying not to flinch every time he’s poked and prodded by the pins. The tailors pay no mind, instead gushing over the warm autumn colours and the silky material of the robes and the lace - gosh, the _lace._ Seungmin has never had to endure a more gruelling two hours before, ever.

As he leaves the fitting room, he makes his way down to the pantry to grab a snack when he hears a few voices float down from the hallway. He’s not sure what compels him to do so - hell, he’s getting coronated in less than a week - but he darts around the bend in the corridor and presses himself flat against the plastered wall. 

Carefully, he pokes his head out to see two men standing in the middle of the corridor. One of them has a cap pulled surreptitiously over his eyes. His body is swallowed by the long velvet cloak he has on. As he speaks, he waves his hands around in the air, showing off a pair of leather gloves he’s donned on.

The other man is unfamiliar, a stranger. He’s grown a bush of white hair atop his head, matching perfectly with his equally white goatee. His spectacles perch on the bridge of his nose, and he makes a move to push them up the oily slope of his nose.

They speak in hushed whispers, and Seungmin strains his ears to desperately catch onto what they’re saying.

Goatee man clicks his tongue. “Protect it with all your life,” he mutters. From his inside coat pocket, he retrieves a glass vial with a light blue liquid sloshing around inside it. “Cost me a fortune. You better be right about this.”

Cloak man nods solemnly. His lips part, moving, but Seungmin can barely make out what he has to say. As soon as the two men reach out to shake hands, the prince takes this as his signal to get out of there, and as soon as _fucking possible._ With nimble footsteps, he hurriedly races down the hallway, back up the stairs, and out into the main hall. Here, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement as workers and cleaners dash up and down the hall, wheeling carts and instructing each other to carry this and hurry that. 

Seungmin barely says hello to any of the greeting oncomers. His heart still pounds hard against his ribcage at the remembrance of the two men in the hallway. The sight of the blue liquid sends his gut reeling. _Whoever they are, and whatever that is,_ he wonders, _I hope it’s nothing bad._

♕♕♕

When Seungmin was sixteen, his parents had gotten aboard a ship headed for Atlanta, to meet with the royal family there. When Seungmin was sixteen, he’d learnt that he was to marry the princess of Atlanta at the age of twenty. When Seungmin was sixteen, when his parents had broken the news to him, he’d immediately fled the castle and never looked back.

He’d managed to hide from the guards, and without a second thought, leapt over the bushes and climbed up the trunk of an oak tree growing right next to the gates. With his heart in his throat, he maneuvered himself onto a branch, as Changbin had taught him before years back, and carefully slid down another lower branch. He landed with a _thump!_ on the cobblestone pathway - and he ran. 

He ran. And ran. And ran. He ran faster than he ever had in his entire life. He darted to the back alleys of the shoplots and cottages, away from the eye of the public. The soles of his shoes slapped against the stone, earning him glances from several passers-by, but by the time they’d realised who he was, he was already long gone.

The path to Changbin’s house was burnt in Seungmin’s memory. He passed by the rustling trees, the terrace houses pressed side-by-side all along the run to his house. Sweat poured from his scalp and rolled down the sides of his face, but he didn’t care - he kept running.

And when he teared down the walkway winding down the lawn to Changbin’s front door, the boy was sat at the front porch creating a small whirlwind of autumn leaves. When Seungmin had stumbled up his stairs, Changbin had looked at him, wide-eyed, as the prince crashed into his open arms.

“Seungmin?” he blurted, bewildered. “What’re you doing out here? And why’re you sweating so much? Did you… did you _run_ all the way here?”

Seungmin gasped for breath. He stood there, in Changbin’s arms, for a long, long time. In an instance, he burst into tears and buried his head into the crook of Changbin’s shoulder, wetting his collar with hot tears. 

And Changbin stood there, his arms wrapped around Seungmin’s body graciously, a hand soothing his back. They stood there for a long, long time, as the sun dipped past the horizon and shone its last few rays upon the two boys, before finally disappearing from their line of sight.

Eventually, they found solace under that old oak tree, its branches almost naked from the cold of winter threatening to come. Seungmin curled up next to Changbin, the latter’s arm wrapped around his shoulder as he sniffled.

“So you’re getting married off to someone you don’t even know,” Changbin murmured.

Seungmin nodded.

Changbin sighed. “It… it can’t be helped, can it?” he said. “There’s nothing you can do about it. You’ll get married off to a nice, rich lady, and you’ll have to take up all the duties and responsibilities of the king of Alta.”

“You’re not really helping, y’know.”

Changbin glimpsed down at him. Moonlight reflected off of those dark, dark irises, giving his eyes a wondrous glimmer. “True. But you still ran all the way here, didn’t you?”

Seungmin poked Changbin’s rib in response, earning him an _oof!_ “Touche,” he said reluctantly.

Changbin grinned, but the smile dissolved away when he noticed Seungmin’s lone expression. “You can still try to change your parents’ mind, y’know?” he suggested. 

Seungmin shook his head. “They’re heading for Atlanta tonight. Perhaps they’ve already boarded the ship and taken off. What great parents they are, to inform me of my arranged marriage right before they kiss my ass farewell, aren’t they?”

The commoner stroked Seungmin’s hair softly, his fingers slipping between the tufts of chestnut brown hair. “Indeed,” he whispered. 

A low thrum began to flutter under Seungmin’s chest. When his eyes glazed over Changbin’s face, heat curled in the depths of his gut, rising up his abdomen and chest and neck, all the way to the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It’s magnetising, a field that always drew Seungmin back to Changbin, the boy with his strange, strange powers. 

Changbin hummed. With a flick of a finger, he lifted a leaf from the ground, twirling it in the air. “Can you imagine this? Leaves. They provide the tree with food, with air; they’re practically its lifeblood. But as the cold bite comes along, they are useless to the tree, and they fall to the ground, useless, unwanted, blending in with all the other leaves on the ground already.”

“Where are you going with this?” Seungmin muttered. Lethargy was beginning to settle into his bones, and his eyelids were on the verge of slipping shut. 

Changbin chuckled. “Nowhere. Just… talking,” he said. His voice was rough and low when he was quiet, but in a comforting way - Seungmin felt even sleepier, as if he were drunk on the boy’s voice. “But there’s some trees that hold onto their leaves, and the tree and its leaves survive through the harsh cold winter. Together. They survive through the cold to emerge into a blossoming spring, all the while together.”

“If you’re trying to create an analogy using the biology of trees, I don’t think that’s very fitting,” Seungmin pointed out.

“It’s not very fitting, I’ll admit,” Changbin responded. His hand came to rest on Seungmin’s cheek, warmth emanating from his palm. It was warm, addicting, and Seungmin wanted to lay in his arms forever. “It’s not very fitting, but it’s sentimental.”

Something hisses in the depths of Seungmin’s mind: a warning. A warning that Changbin could possibly be… referring to something, someone. He swallowed, unsure of the swirl in his stomach from the thought of Changbin saying they were… together. 

He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, because whatever this is, whatever _they_ are, and whatever that happens can’t possibly be any worse than this day, not when he’s lying in Changbin’s arms and lulled to sleep by Changbin’s soft humming, of a song that has never seen the light of day, only whispered in the darkest of nights.

But when they woke in the morning, Seungmin would open his eyes to see Chan leading a troop of soldiers towards the two boys slumped against the tree. When they woke in the morning, the prince and the commoner would be told of the news. When they woke in the morning, everything would change - everything.

♕♕♕

“You’re spacing out again.”

Seungmin blinks back to reality. He’s curled up in their same spot next to the maze fountain, shoulder-to-shoulder with Changbin. Changbin cocks his head sideways, as if assessing the younger boy. “You okay?” he asks softly.

Seungmin flushes. “Yeah,” he replies curtly. “Totally fine.”

“What? Couldn’t handle an hour or so of fitting?” Changbin teases lightly.

“I could handle it, thank you very much,” Seungmin huffs. “Though the robe is a bit much. How much silk did they waste just to make it?”

Changbin clicks his tongue. “Let’s not call it a waste, y’know; they’re spending that money on _you,_ ” he pointed out. With a flick of his wrist, he sends a spray of water droplets onto an annoyed Seungmin’s face. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll look good with a robe.”

The prince shrugs. “Not like I care,” he answers bluntly.

Tonight is colder than most nights. Changbin had wrapped the other boy up in his ruffled jacket without a word the instance Seungmin had touched land. The familiar scent mingles with the woody axe spray on Changbin, and it warms his chest to be so close to something so familiar. 

Without warning, Changbin springs to his feet. “C’mon. I’ve got something to show you.”

Seungmin’s eyes widen like saucers. “What? Right now?” he hisses. “Someone could spot us!”

“I’ll just wipe their memory,” Changbin answers. Before Seungmin can spit and sputter like a cranky old machine, Changbin snorts. “Kidding! I can’t do that.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Sure,” he mutters. Still, he scrambles to his feet and takes upon Changbin’s outstretched hand. The commoner’s hand is a little bigger, with stubbier fingers. Seungmin’s longer, more slender fingers curl around Changbin’s palm. Every time Seungmin touches Changbin by the hand or shoulder or cheek, every inch of his skin burns with heat, as if his blood ran especially hot compared to everyone else. Yet, the heat does not burn him, and Seungmin is invited to keep their hands intertwined as Changbin leads him out of the maze. 

They exit from the side facing away from the castle, where the nearby watchtowers can’t see them. “This way,” Changbin whispers into the shell of the prince’s ear. Hurriedly, they tear down the lawn, two dark figures rushing to the same tree Seungmin had climbed to escape the castle grounds. Thankfully, no one catches them in the act, and within seconds, Changbin’s helping Seungmin down with a touch of his magic. 

“C’mon,” Changbin urges. He still hasn’t spoken a word about where they’re going, though, and Seungmin hesitates for a moment.

“Uh, where’re you taking me?”

Changbin sighs. He slips his hand out of Seungmin’s, and clasps both his hands together in exasperation. “Grandpa… his headache reached an all time low this morning, but the strangest thing was that, well, he kept chanting your name, over and over again.

“He insisted that he wants to see you,” Changbin continues. “For what reason, I don’t know. I’ve been trying to coax it out of him forever, but he’s not budging.”

“ _Now_ you’re telling me this?” Seungmin sighs, pressing a palm to his forehead. He chews on his lower lip as he mulls over this. “I don’t get it, though. Your grandpa hates me, and so does your grandma. I’m part of the reason why you’re in this state after all - no education, no job, just living off of whatever you can find.”

Changbin yanks the prince by the sleeve, tugging him to the back of a shoplot to avoid any other eyes or ears. “I know,” he insists. “But grandpa… he was close to hysterical today. It might’ve been one of his visions. And _you_ , of all people, know that his visions are never wrong.”

At this, Seungmin gulps audibly. His mind reels from the look of the seer’s face, his deathly warning that had been placed upon deaf ears. _For if you go, the kingdom will crumble into ruins._ Seungmin shudders and grips his arms tightly. “Alright. We’ll… go see your grandpa. But don’t leave me alone with him!”

“Why not?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “He might try and strangle me? Or have we forgotten the fact that I’m legally the person who banished him from Alta?”

Changbin doesn’t answer, simply laughs. His hand finds Seungmin’s again, and this time, when their fingers interlace and lock onto each other, Changbin’s smile is immovable. “Right then,” he says. “I hope you have the stamina to keep walking, little prince - it’ll be a long walk to the land of the banished and forgotten.”

♕♕♕

When Seungmin was sixteen, he ran away from the castle that held him prisoner from his freedom. When Seungmin was sixteen, his parents died on their sail to Atlanta, leaving Seungmin an orphan prince. When Seungmin was sixteen, Changbin and his grandparents were banished from Alta, never to return to the kingdom.

That night, Seungmin had cried harder than he ever had in his entire life. In a span of a day, he’d lost his parents and his best friend - he’d never felt lonelier his entire life. As dusk settled in, the last rays of sun drifted past his curtains and casted shadows over Seungmin, who laid on his bed and blew his nose into his napkin for the umpteenth time. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d broken down that day.

All he wanted to do was sleep and never wake up again, not when his world was so lonely and cold.

His dinner was left untouched by his bedside table. He couldn’t be bothered to eat at all. He couldn’t stomach anything, after having the day’s news shoved down his throat for him to swallow. 

There came a soft knock against his bedroom door. Seungmin didn’t answer, and instead turned on his side as he heard the door creak open. 

From the sound of the heavy footsteps, he already knew who it was. “You didn’t eat,” his uncle observed. “You really should, Minmin-”

“-don’t call me that,” Seungmin spat. He still hadn’t faced his uncle, but he could picture the look of shock on his face. No matter how bad his mood was, Seungmin had trained himself to maintain a calm composure, never showing even a sliver of emotion on his face. Tonight, he faced his back to his uncle, his advisor, and squeezed his eyes shut. “Only mum and dad call me that.”

There’s a momentary stagnance in the flow of the river. A veil of serenity fell over Seungmin like a blanket as the silence drew thin. “My apologies.” Seungmin heard his uncle take the tray, and walk to the door. He exited the room quietly, with so much so as a click of the door behind him, and Seungmin burst into tears again.

He was about to blow his nose again when he heard a sharp rap against glass. Shocked, he jumped up and hurriedly sat up straight on his bed. To his bewilderment, a familiar boy peered right into his windows. A pair of bright eyes shone right at him, the moonlight glaring off of his widened pupils.

“Changbin!” Seungmin stumbled off of his bed and scrambled for the window. He slid it open with shaky hands, too stunned to process what was happening before his very eyes. “What are you doing here? You’re exiled from here; you’re supposed to be-”

“-yeah, yeah, beyond the forest,” Changbin finished off for him. With movements as agile as a feline, he swung himself over the windowsill and landed daintily on the carpeted floor. “Wow, your room’s so swanky - and is that a _chandelier_?”

Whilst Changbin stood there admiring the ceiling, Seungmin could only blink in response. “What… what are you… how did you even know where my room is? No, wait - how did you get past the guards?”

Changbin glanced at him, and winked. “I can turn myself invisible, remember?”

Seungmin sighed. “Right.” A frown soon forced itself on his lips. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re even here. You shouldn’t be here at all. And besides, it’s such a long way from your… new home.”

The commoner gave the little prince a look. “You had to phrase it like that, didn’t you?” he chortled. He nodded at the door. “Can you lock the door first, though? In case one of your workers just barges in.”

“They always knock first,” Seungmin protested, but did as he said. Once he was done, he swivelled around to find Changbin brushing a hand across the duvet of his bed.

“Wow,” Changbin breathed. “Is this what luxury feels like?”

Seungmin chuckled a little sheepishly. “Maybe - wait, don’t sit on it in your outside clothes!”

“My _what_ clothes?” Now it was Changbin’s turn to be surprised. He peered down at his clothes, and inspected his shirt with a whiff. “I mean, yeah, I _do_ smell like sweat, but-”

“-there’s an extra bathrobe in my closet,” Seungmin said. “Please do not sit on my bed with your sweaty ass, thank you very much.”

The dark-haired boy guffawed. “Fuck, you’re worse than grandma,” he taunted, but did so anyways. The robe was slightly small on his broader frame, and Changbin looked so squeezed into the robe. It was hilarious, maybe borderline cute. 

Seungmin clicked his tongue, dismissing the thought from his mind. “Now, you better tell me what gave you the idea of coming all the way here to see me, Seo Changbin.”

Changbin poked his tongue out. “Fine, Prince Kim Seungmin,” he drawled. He landed onto the bed with a _whump!_ before patting at the space beside him, inviting Seungmin to sit beside him. And who was Seungmin to refuse? He crawled onto the bed and leaned against Changbin’s side.

There was a momentary silence. “I’m sor-”

“-don’t. Apologise,” Changbin said lowly. His voice was gravelly, serious. He glanced at Seungmin, sure and solid. His lips pressed together into a thin line. “It’s no one’s fault this happened.”

“But still…” Hot tears threaten to spill from the corners of Seungmin’s eyes again. He’d been so elated to see his best friend that for a minute, just for a minute, he’d forgotten about the calamity of the entire day. But the reality crashed down hard on him, and he broke down again into a mess of tears.

All the while, Changbin looped an arm around Seungmin’s shoulder, and nuzzled his nose against the top of his head. The commoner let the little prince cry into his shoulder, hair tickling his nose, lips brushing feather-light chestnut brown hair. 

And when his tears were cleared, Seungmin sniffed and raised his head. “Sorry. You were saying?”

Changbin’s lips cracked into a small smile. His arm wrapped tighter around Seungmin’s shoulders, reeling him closer against his side. “I’m not blaming anyone for this, and neither should you. My grandpa foresaw the future, warned your parents; your parents neglected his advice, sailed ahead, and drowned in the seas; your advisors put the blame on my grandpa for supposedly giving the ‘wrong advice’ or some shit, and banished us from the kingdom. But at the end of the day…” Changbin shrugged. “We just have to make the most of our day, hm?”

“It’s so unfair,” Seungmin hissed. His hands curled into fists, clutching the bed sheets so tight his knuckles turned white. “How could they make the decision without consulting your grandparents first? How could they make the decision without consulting _me_ first? They don’t know jackshit about you, or your grandpa, or what advice he gave my parents! They just thought what they thought, speculated some bullshit up, blamed this entire shitstorm on you, and kicked you out of this fucking kingdom.” 

Seungmin didn’t even realise he was crying again until he felt the pad of Changbin’s thumb brushing away a tear on his cheek. He didn’t stop there. “I’m mourning here over my parents’ deaths, and these goddamned advisors decide _Hey, you know what, let’s blame some random townsfolk so that we can get this over and done with? Oh, by the way Prince Seungmin, would you like your fucking dinner?_ ”

Seungmin grabbed the nearest object - a book on his bedside table - and flung it hard against the wall opposite. It landed unceremoniously against the plastered wall, perhaps making a shallow dent, and dropped to the floor. He panted, trying to catch his breath, and all the while, Changbin soothed his back with the gentle rub of his palm. 

“It’s stupid,” Seungmin griped. “It’s so stupid. This whole system is stupid. There’s no justice, no freedom. No way in, no way out. I can’t believe I’ll have to lead a country with advisors from hell.”

Changbin hummed. His hand snaked up to his shoulder, and he tugged Seungmin back. Seungmin lied down against his pillow, with Changbin’s arm still around his shoulder. It’s warm, comforting, and reminded him of his mum’s embrace. With a sniffle, Seungmin tucked his head into the curve of a gap between the older boy’s chin and shoulder. 

As his eyelids slid shut from lethargy, Changbin whispered, “Maybe it’s meant to be. Some things are meant to be without a reason why.”

Seungmin inhaled deeply. Changbin smelled of light sweat and that same axe spray he always had on. But beyond that, he smelled like greenery, like the woods, like nature’s gift. He felt like home: strong and secure. “Would you know the reason why, then?” 

Changbin didn’t answer. Instead, he began humming a melody Seungmin didn’t recognise. Still, he slipped into a deep, deep slumber, wrapped in the arms of a warm, warm boy that was the closest thing to sunshine Seungmin had ever encountered.

And when he awoke, he opened his eyes to an empty bed - but the lingering warmth on his mattress held the promise of the revelations of what was meant to be.

♕♕♕

The walk is a long one. Nightfall is breezy and chilly, and Seungmin wraps Changbin’s ruffled jacket around him tighter with his free hand. His other hand is interlocked with Changbin’s, their fingers interlaced. 

Neither of them make a move to loosen their grip on the other.

As they’re nearing the edge of the woods, Changbin tugs Seungmin closer to him. “The forest is pretty dark,” he explains, “but don’t worry, okay?”

Seungmin’s pleasantly surprised to hear the other’s words of reassurance, but he nods all the same. They trudge past overgrown undergrowth tumbling and spilling over protruding roots. Wild bushes burst with unbloomed flowers. Twigs and fallen branches snap sharply under their footsteps, and the leaves crunch under the soles of their shoes. 

In the darkness, Seungmin feels his senses heighten. He’s hyper aware of his racing heartbeat thrumming under his chest. Hesitantly, he squeezes Changbin’s hand, and Changbin squeezes his hand back. 

“You okay?” Changbin murmurs. His voice is especially low and gravelly, like tumultuous waves tossed upon rocks. Despite how vociferous that may seem, Seungmin still finds a kind of comfort in his tone. 

He nods in response. “Yeah. Just… don’t let go.”

Changbin smiles. “I would never.”

Above them, moonlight sneaks past the crevices and cracks in between the canopy of trees, and casts long shadows against the forest floor. Seungmin’s never consciously noticed this, but Changbin looks gorgeous like this - illuminated by the moonlight, against the background of the uninhabited forest. 

Seungmin brushes the thought away. _Not the time to be thinking about this,_ he chastises himself, but it’s hard - made harder when he can’t help but notice that their hands fit so well together.

After something close to an eternity, they emerge in a clearing in the woods. Changbin holds a branch back for Seungmin to pass by first. “After you,” he grins. As he does, he lets go of the branch, which betrays him and slaps him across the face. Seungmin can’t help but burst out laughing at this, and his laughter continues on for as long as Changbin groans in pain.

Eventually, their laughter ebbs away. A veil of silence envelopes them as Changbin leads Seungmin down a barely visible pathway dug into the soil, winding down to a little cottage built against the background of moonlit trees. The cottage is considerably smaller than Changbin’s previous one, and a lot shabbier, but there’s something so homely and inviting about this homemade house than ushers Seungmin right up to its front door.

Changbin gulps. “Uh, if… if grandmama says anything… uh, bad, um…” His voice trails off as he tries to search for the right words to say. 

Seungmin places a reassuring hand on Changbin’s shoulder and smiles gently. “Don’t worry, I get it,” he insists. He nods towards the boy’s hand on the doorknob. Changbin chuckles, and twists it open. The door creaks open, loud, the bottom of it scraping against the pine wood floors. Yellow light spills out from the hallway and beckons the two boys in. 

In an instance, Seungmin can sniff out the scent of freshly baked bread floating in the air. He can’t help but take a few more whiffs. It’s… it’s a different cottage, not like the one Changbin and his grandparents resided in before they were exiled, but it’s the same altogether. 

The place still smells like Changbin’s grandmother’s cinnamon spice and pastries. There’s even a framed picture of Changbin and his grandparents hung on one wall. For a moment, Seungmin wonders how they’d managed to even build such a cushy home, but he remembers about Changbin’s powers, and, well. That explains everything.

Changbin leads Seungmin by the sleeve, tugging him into what seems to be the kitchen. The scent of flour and baked goods is stronger now, filling Seungmin’s nostrils. Standing in the small, small kitchen, hunched over the oven, is Changbin’s grandma. She looks about the same - white hair, bushy eyebrows, warm eyes.

When she hears the two boys enter the room, she turns around with a smile. The smile slips from her face, though, when her eyes land on Seungmin by her grandson’s side. “Your Honour. What on Alta’s sake are you doing here?”

Seungmin swallows. Changbin’s grandmother’s eyes bear straight through his, in a way that reminds him too much of Changbin - sharp, piercing, but kind all the same. “Evening, Mrs Seo,” Seungmin greets with a slight bow. “Changbin invited me over. It’s lovely to see you again.”

He expects a roll of the eyes. Maybe a sneer. Or a snort. Changbin’s grandmother has always been feisty, with a hint of sarcasm. Instead, her smile finds its place back on her lips again. She sets her oven mittens down on the table and trudges over to Seungmin.

Seungmin gauges what she’s doing, and he immediately steps forward and into her open arms. He wraps his own arms around her small body, and hugs her tight. Mrs Seo sniffles a little when they pull back. “It’s so lovely to see you again, my boy,” she says. “I’ve missed you terribly.” 

Baffled, Seungmin knits his eyebrows together. “But… but I’m the reason you’re here-”

“-tut tut!” she cuts him off, clicking her tongue several times. “None of that, please!” She turns around and shows off the apple pie on the scrubbed mahogany table. The top of the pie gleams, and Seungmin can see the dollops of apples peeking out from under the criss-cross pattern. “Now, I’m sure you both have had a long journey here. Here’s some apple pie, fresh out of the oven!”

Something bright bursts in the depths of Seungmin’s gut. He feels tears prick his eyes, and he hurries to blink them back. “Thank you,” he murmurs, and reaches out to hug Mrs Seo once again. 

Mrs Seo titters with laughter. “Oh, don’t need to thank me, my boy,” she assures him. When they pull back, Changbin’s grandmother peers over the prince’s shoulder. “And Binnie, what did I say about bringing guests home without warning me?”

Changbin flushes bright red. It’s adorable, really, seeing him so shy under his grandmother’s watchful gaze. “Uhhh, sorry?” he replies sheepishly. “It was an… impulsive decision.”

“And what did I say about making impulsive decisions?” Mrs Seo continues. She bustles about, slicing up a piece of pie and setting it in an eager Seungmin’s palm.

“That they’ll only brew trouble?”

“Especially with those powers of yours, honey. You almost set the house on fire yesterday, remember?”

Changbin groans and slumps onto the counter. Seungmin arches an eyebrow as he raises the slice up to his lips. “Really? What happened?” he asks teasingly.

“Oh, he was just-”

“-nooooo,” Changbin whines. “Don’t say it, ma.”

“Oh, alright!” Mrs Seo laughs, then sends a wink in Seungmin’s direction. “I’ll just say that it had something to do with our fair and lovely prince-”

“-let’s go visit grandpa, shall we?” Changbin exclaims. He almost shoves Seungmin out the door and pushes him down the hallway. The prince calmly munches on his pie, a puzzled expression on his face as they emerge to the stairwell. “He’s downstairs, in the basement.”

“Alriiiiight,” Seungmin singsongs. “But once we’ve seen your grandpa, you’re telling me what your grandma was about to tell me.”

Changbin huffs. “Whatever,” he mutters. Seungmin’s still laughing as they walk down the stairs, two at a time, and reach a wooden landing. The room is only dimly lit, the only light source being the flickering lightbulb hanging treacherously from the low ceiling. The room is bare, save for a single bed and a bookcase, and a chair by the bed. 

Sat in the chair is none other than Changbin’s grandfather, who mostly looks the same - perhaps there’s more worry lines on his forehead, and he’s sporting a bush of white hair that used to be well-kept and trimmed. 

His eyes are closed shut. Seungmin walks cautiously towards him, careful not to wake him, but Mr Seo’s eyes suddenly open. Seungmin can’t help but squeak in surprise. (Though, he should’ve seen that coming. Mr Seo was always known for acting all mystic and stuff, after all.)

“Pops,” Changbin greets. His voice shakes with trepidation, and he steadies himself with a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder. 

Despite his old age, his eyes are still fiery, brighter than the light in the room. Changbin’s grandfather glances at Seungmin, his eyes rushing from the top of his head down to his shoes, and back up to his face. “Your Honour. It’s been a while.”

Seungmin clears his throat. “Yes,” he croaks out. “Indeed it has. Sorry for the sudden intrusion, but-”

“-it’s no intrusion.” Mr Seo stands to his feet, and glimpses up slightly at Seungmin for their eyes to meet. “I’ve been waiting to meet you. Thank goodness my crackhead of a grandson finally got it in his head.”

“Well, you didn’t _tell_ me to go and-”

“-yes, yes, Changbin.” Mr Seo waves a hand dismissively in the air, which makes Seungmin crack up. His grandfather turns his attention back to Seungmin. “How are you, Your Honour? The coronation is in a week’s time, is it not?”

Seungmin nods jerkily. “It is.”

Mr Seo smiles gently, but there is no humour in his eyes. “Tell me, how are the preparations? Everyone working hard? And your advisors?”

The last sentence sends a deathly chill down Seungmin’s spine. The official statement was that Seungmin had banished Changbin and his grandparents from the kingdom, but it was a no brainer that it really wasn’t his decision. “Um. It’s all going well, sir.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir’,” Changbin’s grandfather chortles. He clasps his hands together and turns around. “Now then, since you’re here, you could help me find something, couldn’t you?”

Changbin gawks at his grandfather. “I sneaked the royal prince out of his castle grounds and walked the entire way here completely visible, for you to ask him to _clear your bookcase_ -”

“-Changbin, for the love of Alta, shut your mouth for a moment,” Mr Seo tuts. Seungmin hides his laughter behind a cough, and follows behind the boy’s grandfather. He’s still a little confused, but he follows the old man’s instructions nonetheless.

“Could you help me find my old stack of playing cards?” Mr Seo asks. 

Seungmin’s eyes dart up and down, side to side, and he spots the beat-up packet squeezed between several thick volumes. He wrenches the pack out carefully, and stretches out his hand to give them to the seer. “Here you go-”

“-wait.” Mr Seo nods at the pack of cards. “Open it.”

Seungmin licks his lips nervously. His hands tremble a little as his finger flicks the flap of the pack open. No cards fall out. Instead, two flowers come tumbling out and onto Seungmin’s palm. 

Puzzled, Seungmin lifts the two flowers up and inspects them. “Wow. They’re pretty,” he says. “What are they?”

Changbin’s grandfather hums. “Honeyflower and pansy. They’re gorgeous together, aren’t they?”

Seungmin doesn’t say anything. He peers up to search for some sort of answer in the seer’s eyes. And yet, his eyes are blank and dark. “Well… what do they mean?”

And now, his eyes twinkle, like stars embedded in two pools of darkness. “What do they mean? Hm.” He grins. “They signify a forbidden love.”

“But why would they be in this pack of cards?” Seungmin asks. “They look so well preserved. Did you put them there?”

His grandfather shrugs. “You took the pack and opened it yourself. I can’t say anything beyond that.”

Seungmin glances over his shoulder to look at Changbin. Surprisingly, the boy’s face is flushed beetroot red. When their eyes meet, Changbin averts his gaze to the floor. Confused, Seungmin looks back at the two flowers in his hand, twirls them around in his fingers. “Is… is this why you asked to meet me?”

“No,” Mr Seo shakes his head solemnly. “Yesterday night, I had one of my visions.”

Both boys lean closer, eager to hear more. The seer has never been wronged by his visions, not once in his life. Seungmin almost shakes in anticipation as he asks, “And what was it?”

The seer doesn’t say anything. He lifts a delicate hand and places it on Seungmin’s shoulder. The weight of his hand there is so gentle, he barely senses it. What he does sense is the heat emanating from his palm, seeping through the fabric of his shirt and dissipating into his skin. “Your coronation, I fear, will not go well.”

Seungmin gulps. “What?” he whispers.

“Moreso, your pre-coronation dinner. There will be a ball, will there not?”

Seungmin nods.

The seer chuckles humorlessly. “Be prepared, fair prince. You’ll realise this in the next few days. You’ll find out what is to occur during the dinner, and you’ll be there to stop it, but at an invaluable cost.”

“At what cost?”

Mr Seo smiles. “At the cost of someone you hold dear to your heart.”

When he says this, his eyes flick momentarily to Changbin, who’s stood rooted to the ground behind Seungmin. “I can’t tell the consequences of such an occurrence, but I doubt it’ll be predictable, fair prince. Be on the lookout, fair prince. Though, I think you won’t have a problem with that,” he pauses, before smiling, “so long as you open your heart.”

♕♕♕

“What did he _mean_ by that?”

After a long walk back to the castle grounds, the two boys managed to sneak back into Seungmin’s room (though it was a pretty close call - Changbin almost sent the both of them hurtling against the brick wall). Seungmin even called for Jeongin to bring some food over, claiming he was craving for a late night snack while Changbin hid in his bathroom.

They’re sat on the rug, spread out across the expanse of the floor. A silver tray with cookies, cakes, salty snacks and a jug of water sit between the two boys. The two flowers are laid next to the plate of cookies, and Seungmin picks them up once again.

“Forbidden love, huh,” he muses. “I wonder if he actually put them in there on purpose.”

“Pops has always been like that,” Changbin says. “Mystic. Tries to be all mysterious and shit like that. But that’s what everyone hates about him - that he’s unpredictably and scarily accurate about what happens in the future.”

Seungmin’s fingers flit along the guidelines of the yellow petals. “But what did he mean by my coronation not going well? And the forbidden love thing? This isn’t the first time he’s mentioned it, right?”

Changbin takes a bite out of a slice of butter cake, and nods. “Mhm.”

Seungmin narrows his eyes at his friend. “And you said you were going to tell me what was going on back there.”

Changbin swallows. His Adam’s apple protrudes out almost comically. “I… I did?” he blabbers, feigning innocence. 

The prince grins wickedly. “You promised me, remember?”  
“It was _not_ a promise.”

“It was.”

Changbin sighs, and sets down his slice of cake. “It’s just a stupid conversation my grandmama and I had yesterday.”

Leaning forward in anticipation, Seungmin blinks several times at Changbin. “Aaaand?”  
Changbin blushes. His gaze falls to the floor. “She was saying, um… that I shouldn’t, uh, get my hopes up?”

“What?” Seungmin furrows his eyebrows together. He watches as Changbin scratches the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his face. His heart leaps to his throat, and lodges itself there. “What… did she mean by that?”

Changbin coughs. “Haha, it’s nothing, really. Hey, can I take some cookies home? These are really delicious-”

Seungmin huffs. He scoots over to where Changbin is sitting, knee brushing knee. Seungmin folds his legs and stares dead centre into Changbin’s eyes. Up close, he can see how dilated Changbin’s eyes are… and is that _sweat_ on his forehead?

“Uhhhh.” Changbin chews on his lower lip. “It’s really nothing important, but uh-”

“-if it’s not important, you can say it, right?” Seungmin persists. He’s not sure where this more daring side of him has come from, but in this moment in time, his racing heartbeat is controlling his every movement. 

All of sudden, it’s as if he’s sixteen again, gravitating back towards this commoner boy again. It’s as if he’s sixteen again, and the leaves have fallen in warm hues of yellow, ochre and red all around them. It’s as if he’s sixteen again, and he’s looking at Changbin in a way he hardly ever looks at anyone else - with admiration, with adoration.

(His hair _still_ looks so soft, even without product. Seungmin’s not sure if he wants to stroke his hair or yank at his hair out of envy.)

“You see here…” Changbin’s eyes are still fixated on the fuzzy cloth of the rug. “I, uh… have hopes. Sometimes, I hope that there’s some sort of reversal thing so that my grandparents and I were still, y’know, unexiled. Other times, I hope that there’s some sort of spell that can take these powers away from me, because they’re pretty much kinda useless to me.”

And when his line of vision flickers back up to Seungmin’s, Seungmin suddenly forgets how to breathe. “But most of the time, I, uh, hope to spend more time with you. Together. No restrictions or anything, just, uh, you and me.” 

By the time he finishes his words, Changbin’s face is an absolute tomato. And yet, Seungmin can’t find it in him to laugh, because _what the everloving fuck of Alta._ His clammy palms clench tight onto the hem of his pants. The flowers have already fluttered to the ground, left unattended, when Seungmin blurts out, “Do… do you _like_ me, Changbin?”

In an instance, Changbin’s shoulders tense up. Despite the situation, Seungmin’s slightly amused by this. _He’s such a dead giveaway,_ Seungmin thinks, as his body pitches forward a little more, until their knees knock together. “I, uh…” Changbin gulps audibly. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Seungmin blinks. “Since when?”

“Since… fuck, Min, I don’t know.” Changbin’s hands come up to his face to slap his cheeks, before sliding down the sides of his face as he groans. “Maybe when we first met? Or maybe that day I first showed you my powers? Or when you came running to me because you thought you were going to get married off? I don’t know.

“But one thing I am sure about is that,” Changbin inhales deeply, exhales shakily, “I… like you. Which is, of course, highly inappropriate, because I’m a dude, you’re a dude, I’m a regular old guy, and you’re the goddamned _prince-_ ”

“-so what?” Seungmin smiles. “Because you’re a guy and I’m a guy, it’s forbidden?”

Changbin’s eyes snap to attention, and flit towards the flowers. “You figured it out, too.”

“How could I not?” Seungmin giggles. “You told me before, didn’t you? That a forbidden love would lead to the crumbling of our kingdom.”

There’s a momentary silence as Changbin processes his words. “Does that mean… you like me too?” Changbin gawks in disbelief.

Seungmin flicks the boy’s forehead, causing him to whine. “Dumbass,” he sighs. “I like you too.”

Four words. Words that Seungmin has always had in his brain, jumbled up into a hotpot of incoherent words and letters.

_I. Like. You. Too._

If Seungmin really thinks hard about it, he can never pinpoint the very moment he fell in love with Changbin, nor can he pinpoint the very reason why he fell in love with Changbin.

But one thing’s for sure.

At the end of every day, _he’s_ the one he gravitates back to. At the end of every day, he’s the one he curls up with and spills his secrets to. At the end of every day, it’s _Changbin_ that he will always fall back to - and he will always be there. 

_He’ll always be here,_ Seungmin thinks, as he curls a hand around Changbin’s neck and lures him close - close enough for their lips to touch.

It’s tender, feather-light. The moment their lips brush, sparks explode all along Seungmin’s spine, and he gasps. When they pull away, Changbin smiles shyly. “Sorry,” he apologises. “I think that was me.”

Seungmin laughs. “I’d better get used to it, then,” he says cheekily, before leaning in to kiss Changbin again. Before they know it, Seungmin’s clambering into Changbin’s lap, hands sliding down to embrace him tightly. Changbin sighs breathlessly into the kiss, his own hands cupping Seungmin’s cheeks daintily, as if he were fragile.

But both of them know better.

The butterfly of Seungmin’s heart flutters its wings rapidly, in succession, against the cage of his chest. Seungmin swears he sees stars every time a spark rushes down his spine and down to the tips of his fingertips and the ends of his toes. And when they let go of each other to catch their breaths, Seungmin is lost in the sight of Changbin’s dark, dark eyes. Up until now, he’s never seen the whites of his pupils in those piercing eyes.

Up close, he can see how bright they are, how they dance in the lights of the room, and Seungmin thinks there is no better sight than _this._

♕♕♕

_“En garde!”_

At the sudden shout, Seungmin is snapped back into reality and narrowly misses Chan’s sword aimed right at his chest. “Shit!” he yelps, ducking to the side and tripping over his heels. He lands with a thump on the grass, and groans in agony.

Chan laughs. “You’re distracted, Your Honour,” he comments lightly. He stretches out an arm, helping Seungmin back up to his feet. “Your eyes are glazed over. You fallen in love or something, Min?”

Seungmin flushes. He hurriedly wipes the sweat gleaming on his forehead. Sure, the summer heat is excruciatingly hot in Alta, but that’s not really the only reason he’s perspiring so much - not that he’ll admit that to Chan, of course. “Why would you think that?”

Chan shrugs, and withdraws his sword. “A hunch. You looked especially happy this morning.”

Seungmin stiffens. He rolls his shoulders back and narrows his eyes at the guard. “And why do you say so?”

“You made a smiley face with your maple syrup on your pancakes this morning.”

“Oh.” Seungmin desperately wants to wipe Chan’s smirk off of his face, but he decides against it. Subtlety is key, after all, he reminds himself. “I… had a good dream?”

Chan snorts. “Please,” he drawls. “I’ve heard better lies from you, Min. Hm, I guess I’ll forget that I saw you and that commoner sneaking around the garden yesterday night.”

If shock were a wave, Seungmin feels like a tsunami has rushed over him and instantly drowned him. “What?” he blurts out. “How… why…. Wait, _what?_ ”

Chan guffaws. He gestures over to one of the old pine trees in the practice lawn with a lazy grin. “Let’s talk over there under the shade, yeah?”

Seungmin cannot process anything. How does Chan know? How long _has_ he known? Did he see them yesterday? Or has he been seeing them sneaking out for longer? Why hasn’t he informed any of the guards? 

As soon as Chan plops down on the grass, Seungmin says, “But-”

“-y’know,” Chan interjects. He pats down on the space beside him, and Seungmin reluctantly sits down. “If your man’s gonna keep floating you up and down your castle, you might wanna, I don’t know, ask him to be a little more subtle about that.”

“You knew,” Seungmin breathes.

Chan shrugs. “How can I not?” he asks. “You’re lucky I’m the only guard on the night watch near the side of your bedroom and the garden maze. You would never believe how shocked I was the first time he did that; I almost shat my pants!”

The prince gulps down his nerves. He hides his trembling hands on his laps by curling them into fists, the knuckles whitening. “How long have you known about this?”  
“Uh…. a few months ago?”

Seungmin gasps. “I am _so_ stupid,” he mutters.

Chan pats Seungmin’s shoulder comfortingly. “Not stupid,” he chuckles. “Just a little lovestruck.”

Seungmin licks his dry lips. His throat is suddenly aching for water. “Do you… know who he is?”

The guard taps his chin, thinking. “I’ll assume it’s that seer’s grandson, right? You’ve always looked brighter around him.”

At this, Seungmin’s ears perk up. “Really?” he asks.

“Yeah,” the other grins. “Every time your parents went to visit the seer, you’d be so excited. And every time after the visit, you’d be in such a happy mood. It was so obvious on your face, Your Honour. You really gotta practise keeping a straight face - like me!”

Seungmin arches an eyebrow. “Like you?”

Chan slaps his back. “Alright, I’m gonna head off,” he quips, scrambling to his feet. He merely avoids Seungmin’s question, but the latter’s too stunned to argue otherwise. “And don’t worry about me; I won’t say a word to anyone about, y’know, your love rendezvous-”

“-it’s _not_ a rendezvous,” Seungmin sighs. “And don’t you have your duties to attend to?”

His friend throws his head back and laughs, before waving goodbye to the prince and heading off. Great. Of _course_ someone was bound to find out - maybe they aren’t all that subtle after all. At least only Chan figured it out, and he’s a good friend who’s true to his words. Hopefully he won’t let it slip while chatting it up with one of the other guards. 

Seungmin sighs again, stands, and dusts grass strands off of his pants. As he does so, he catches someone moving in his peripheral vision. Surprised, he glimpses up and swirls around. Behind the practice lawn is the old garden shed that has found more use in collecting dust than storing gardening tools over the years. He supposes that’s what surprises him as he catches a man stride towards the garden shed in a hurry, tearing across the lawn in a blink of an eye.

Seungmin ducks behind the trunk of the pine tree and peers around the wood. It’s unmistakable - his uncle and advisor, Sangchul, enters the garden shed and locks the door behind him with a _click!_

Confused as to why he would lock the door behind him, Seungmin carefully makes his way down the lawn. With dainty steps, Seungmin sneaks up to the garden shed door and wordlessly presses his ear against the mahogany wood of the door. What he hears next shocks him beyond belief.

“Everything is as planned,” he hears Sangchul say. “I’ll pass it off to one of the cooks, claiming it’s his medicine to put in his drink. And knowing how busy the cooks will be, we’ll be certain that they won’t suspect a single thing.”

“Good predicament,” someone else says. Seungmin wonders why his voice sounds so familiar, then it slowly dawns upon him that the voice belongs to one of his head advisors. But what could they possibly be discussing inside this dingy shed away from everyone else? “It’s a foolproof plan. How long does it take for the effects to take in again?”

There’s a pause, and what Sangchul says next sends a deathly chill down Seungmin’s spine, down to the soles of his shoes. “Ten seconds. It’s a gorgeous plan, isn’t it? All it takes is ten seconds for our naive little prince to succumb to the wraiths of death.”

Seungmin slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from gasping aloud. What did that mean? What on _Earth_ is going on? His mind reels with a thousand questions bursting at once. He leans in close to catch what the other advisor has to say. “Though… what if the cook tattletales later? What would we do about that?”

“Hm…” Seungmin swallows the bundle of nerves caught in his throat, and narrowly misses choking as he hears his uncle’s next words. “Then I’ll pass it off to that caretaker, who’s so fond of our little prince - what’s his name again? Jeongin? The one indebted to our family. He’ll be a perfect subject; if anyone’s fingerprints are ending up on that vial, it’ll be that boy’s.”

Seungmin’s eyes widen. Panicked, his foot collides with a nearby pebble. The sound of the tip of his leather shoe (curse these shoes) clicks lightly against the pebble, soft, but not soft enough to be left unheard.

“What’s that?” his uncle’s voice booms. “Who’s out there?”

Fuck. Without a moment’s hesitation, Seungmin tears down the lawn, back up to the practice yard where a few guard trainees have gathered for their morning training. Just as Seungmin glances over his shoulder, the shed door is thrown open to reveal his uncle. 

As soon as he catches a glimpse of Sangchul, he swivels his head back around. _Stay calm,_ he chastises himself. _Stay fucking calm. They don’t know you were there. They don’t know you were there - so just stay_ fucking _calm!_

He musters a smile and greets the eager trainees. All of them, mostly about fifteen or sixteen, greet him politely - normally, too, which means it’s probably not showing on his face.

“Your Honour,” one of the trainees says. “Sorry to intrude, but you look rather pink. Are you feeling alright?”

Okay, it’s definitely showing on his face. “Ah, not to worry,” he chuckles. “The heat must be getting to me, but I’m heading inside right now, so there’s nothing to worry!”

Perhaps he spoke a little too fast, because now all eyes are on him. Thankfully, the head guard intercepts the situation and claps his hands together, signalling for all the trainees to begin their warm-ups. Seungmin makes a mental note to put in a good word for that guard - Younghyun, he thinks - and scurries across the courtyard towards the front doors. 

As soon as he enters the castle, he brushes past the workers, muttering hello’s and hi’s with a wisp of his voice. He stalks down the hallways, hands balled into fists by his sides. He takes the stairs two at a time, turns the corner and throws the door to his bedroom wide open.

Seungmin enters his bedroom, locks the door, and slumps to the floor. The tears from just now come gushing out of the corners of his eyes in torrents now. Twin streams rush down his cheeks. He sobs, careful not to be too loud to be heard, but sobs all the same.

He buries his head in his arms. Nothing seems to make sense anymore, but everything makes sense all the same - the vial of liquid passed between the two men in the hallway. The conversation. His _uncle._ The dots, scattered across his brain in bits and pieces, are connected with a simple, straight line. 

Everything had been laid out on the table right there, under his fucking nose - and Seungmin hadn’t even noticed at all.

He sniffs, and wipes his tears. He stumbles to his feet shakily. Whatever the hell just happened back there, Seungmin was sure of one thing - he was going to stop his uncle’s ridiculous plan, before it hurt not just him, but his beloved ones all around him.

 _You’ve already taken away my parents,_ Seungmin seethes. _You’re not going to take me away._

♕♕♕

A child’s memory is in tatters and ruins by the time they’ve grown into full-fledged adults. A child’s memory is so akin to seeds - hundreds, maybe thousands of seeds dispersed everywhere and anywhere, some whose unborn leaves will never see the light of day.

But give it some water, some sunlight, and the seed will germinate, the leaves will grow, and the flowers will bloom. 

The point is, the seed is pointless, useless, forgotten - that is, until you give it something to remember as it grows.

“He’s not fit to be king.” 

Eleven-year-old Seungmin stopped in his tracks outside the door to his parents’ room. He swallowed, instantly recognising his uncle Sangchul’s voice. Something told him not to eavesdrop - his conscience.

But something else told him to listen in - his curiosity.

“He’s only a child,” he heard his mother retort. “How can you base his future achievements off of a child’s mindset? He’s growing, and we’ll teach him!”

Sangchul scoffed. “Have you seen the toys he plays with? They’re hardly fit for a king - jigsaw puzzles, colouring books. And he never interacts with the other servants or guards.”

“He’s a _child,_ ” his mother reiterated. “Just because you’re much older than him doesn’t mean he’s stupid. He’s not. He’s intelligent, and brave, just a little shy now. And we will stick to our will – he _will_ be king when he’s twenty years old!”

Seungmin recognised the heavy thumping of his father’s footsteps; he’d always had a rather characteristic way of walking, with his shoulders rolled back, chest out, in a kind of peacock, but with a humble smile and modest voice. 

Now, though, his voice was sharp as knives. 

“Sangchul,” his father bellowed. His voice was a wind crashing against the windows in the calm before the storm, tossed upon threatening clouds. “What point are you trying to make here? You’re wasting your time, my time, and-”

“-do you not get it?” Sangchul blurted. “He’s idiotic, and worst of all, he’s a homosexual of all things. Have you not seen him talk about that seer’s son? He talks about him like he’s hung the moon and stars! And on that one visit I came with, all he did was play with that boy; isn’t it obvious? There must be some sort of-”

“-Sangchul.” The wind had died down, but a deafening silence followed. “You do not slander my son. This is a new low, especially for you. Out-”

“-but-”

“-now!”

Seungmin darted down the hallway and hid behind a corner, just in time for Sangchul to storm out the room in a huff, and rush down the opposite end while cursing aloud. 

Seungmin clutched onto his teddy bear tighter. His mind reeled with his uncle’s words embedded into every inch of his skin. He hadn’t ever thought of it that way; he’s always loved playing with toys and jigsaw puzzles and chatting with Changbin. Was that…. Not fit for a king?

 _Maybe I’m not fit for a king after all,_ Seungmin thought. 

♕♕♕

After nine years, the words are still there, embedded into every inch of his skin.

And yet, the afterword is different - _I’m fit for a king, and I’ll prove it to him. To mum, and dad. To the whole world._

♕♕♕

As the dinner ball draws nearer and impossibly nearer, Seungmin’s anxiety grows greater and greater. Having ducked out of his room earlier to find Jeongin, the prince weaves his way into and out of the bustling throngs of workers, ranging from the cooks and the interior designers to the caretakers and the guards. The main hall is a hive of activity, buzzing with exhilaration as workers hang silky banners on the walls of the room, and another teeters on a ladder, dusting the chandelier.

Seungmin’s eyes dart from one person to the other, trying to pinpoint Jeongin. Dread rises in the depths of his guts as he catches sight of his uncle instead. He smooths the worry lines on his forehead, inhales sharply, and coolly waits for Sangchul to walk over to where he’s stood, by the entrance of the main hall.

“Seungmin,” his uncle greets with a modest bow. Seungmin feels sick in the stomach. It’s sickening, to know that every word and every movement of the man stood before him, is laced with malicious intent, with no ounce of genuinity to them. It’s sickening, but Seungmin plasters on a smile and bows slightly in return. “Are you pleased with the ongoing preparations?”

 _Be it whether I were pleased or not, it wouldn’t bother you, would it?_ Seungmin wants to say. Instead, he hides his frown with a chuckle and replies, “Everything seems to be going smoothly. I can only imagine how majestic it’ll all be, after everyone’s put all their efforts into making this ball a success, yes?”

Seungmin’s not stupid. The gesture may be miniscule, barely anywhere near caught by the wink of an eye - but it’s there. There’s as if the smile on his uncle’s face is stretched tight and worn thin. A crease forms over his forehead in a worry line. “I’m glad to hear that. We’ll be having a brief meeting with the other advisors at five in the evening. I’ll have young Jeongin fetch you.”

At Jeongin’s name, Seungmin feels his heart clenching. He swallows. “Alright, then,” he quips. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Seungmin swivels around on his heel, too anxious to continue the conversation. As the seconds tick by, his worries only grow more and more. Should he tell Jeongin about it? Or should he wait it out and dismantle his uncle’s plan during the dinner? Would it be morally right for him to rat his uncle out with four hundred guests in the dinner hall? 

His mind is clouded with question after relentless question as he turns the corner in the hallway, narrowly missing a bustling Felix. “Oh, shit!” Felix squeaks. He balances the fruit basket in his arms with a shaky sigh. “I’m so sorry, Your Honour! I didn’t see you there.”

“Don’t worry about it, Lix,” Seungmin grins. He rarely manages to see Felix around, mostly because he’s the stable boy, working at the fields some distance away from the castle. With the big day gradually approaching, Seungmin supposes the castle workers needed more hands. “How’re you doing, by the way? Haven’t seen you around for a bit.”

Felix wipes his sweaty brow with the back of his free hand. “Gah, it’s been super busy lately!” he admits. “It’s really fun to help out around here, though; much better than just scooping out horse shit in the stables every day.”

The two of them laugh at that. Seungmin’s eyes land on the fruit basket in his friend’s arms. “So… what’s with the fruits?”

“Oh, this?” Felix grins. “Honestly? They’re just for decoration. Apparently one of the head designers noticed the wallpaper peeling, so they asked for me to fetch one of the fruit baskets from the kitchen to, like, hide it?” 

He flushes bright red, his freckles prominent against his pink cheeks. “Wait, I’m not sure if you’re supposed to know that…”

Seungmin giggles. “Totally understandable, though it’s funny why you’re using fruits to cover it up.”

Felix shrugs. “Anything goes, I guess. As long as it stays hidden, that is!”

The cogs turning in Seungmin’s mind suddenly snap into place with a _thunk!_ His eyes widen. “Oh, um, that reminds me, I need to go attend some, uh, other business. I’ll see you around, Lix.”

Oblivious to the sudden change of the prince’s mood, the stable boy nods. “I’ll see you around, Your Ho- I mean, uh, Seungmin!”

With that, Seungmin takes off down the long corridor. As he takes the stairs two at a time to his room, his mind remains fixated on one particular boy with certain special powers.

♕♕♕

“What?” Changbin splutters. He curls up closer to Seungmin and squishes his face in between his palms. “He’s going to _kill_ you?”

“Shh, not so loud!” Seungmin protests, his words garbled by how Changbin’s hands are mushing his cheeks together. Whilst the rose maze (and, well, Chan) keep them hidden away from sight, Changbin’s voice will definitely stir up attention amongst the guards on night watch. “And, well, yeah. At least, that’s what I got from that weird conversation.”

Changbin grits his teeth. “Why haven’t you raised a word about this to anyone yet?”

Seungmin places his hands over Changbin’s and lays them on his lap. “Because,” Seungmin sighs, exasperated, “the only people I can really tell this to are the others in the panel of head advisors. And honestly? They’d all rather have Sangchul rule the country rather than some parentless adolescent. The only reason for my coronation, really, is because of my parents’ will.”

Changbin shakes his head. “How can they… how can they _kill_ you the night before you’re crowned as king?” he whispers. Seungmin has to swallow to stop the tears rushing to his eyes. The boy’s voice is so, so sad and broken, it crushes Seungmin’s heart to smithereens. “Can’t you do something about it? Tell someone?”

“No one would believe me,” he mutters.

“What about the guards? Surely they’ll protect you?”

Seungmin licks his chapped lips. “Look, here’s the situation: there’s no foolproof evidence. The only evidence is me, and that vial of liquid. Sangchul could just pawn it off to anyone else and put the blame on them. He’s… manipulative, in a way.” He frowns. “And he’s been my guide and teacher for the past few years; none of the head advisors would believe me.

“I may be king in a few days, Changbin,” Seungmin mumbles, “but I haven’t earned that title yet. Ever since dad and mum died, I haven’t left these castle grounds to visit the townspeople. I’ve been locked up in this castle by my advisors. I haven’t met with royalty from abroad or had important meetings or signed papers or decreed anything. I haven’t proven myself. Who would believe someone who hasn’t proven their worth?”

Changbin nudges his shoulder gently. The moonlight really does cast such a painfully articulate shadow across his cheeks. His pupils dilate. “I would.”

“Because it’s _you,_ ” he mumbles. He nestles his head on Changbin’s shoulder, inhales that musky scent of his light sweat and nighttime dew. “I… have a different proposition to approach this, though.”

Changbin is still tense, rattled by the prince’s revelation. Noticing this, Seungmin takes hold of Changbin’s hand and squeezes lightly. “The plan of action takes place during the dinner party. I’ll simply withdraw from drinking my drink, since it’s claimed to be a medicine. Nothing happens, and I get crowned as king.”

“Not a very sound plan, though,” Changbin gulps. “What if the guests insist on you to call for a toast?”

“That’s, uh, where you come in.”

Changbin jerks backward, shocked. “Why _me_?”

The prince tucks a stray strand of hair behind Changbin’s ear. “Because you’re the only one I know who can do it.”

Changbin folds his arms across his chest. “I still don’t like the sound of this,” he mutters. “You’re being crowned as the goddamned king! Why can’t you tell anyone straight up?”

Seungmin smiles sadly. He remembers the words of Sangchul. Of his mother. Of his father. _He’s only a child. He’s intelligent, and brave, just a little shy now._

_He’s not fit to be king._

“Because no one believes in an orphaned prince, Changbin,” he says. “If you didn’t know me, you wouldn’t either, would you?”

Changbin scowls and turns his face. After a long pause, he glimpses back at Seungmin, the moonlight caught in his eyes. “What do I have to do?” he murmurs.

♕♕♕

“Your Honour?”

Seungmin barely hears the other’s voice. He only realises when he hears the resounding footsteps approaching from behind him. He swivels around on the bench to see Jeongin smiling softly at him. The summer breeze sweeps his long hair across his eyes. The evening sun dips past the horizon, and frames the caretaker in its last rays of light. “Jeongin.”

Jeongin walks over to where Seungmin is sitting and pauses. “What’re you doing out here?”

They’re at the main courtyard, directly facing the gateways closed to the bustling town of Alta. Even from here, Seungmin can hear the cheers and laughter resounding from the townsfolk. He supposes they’re packing up after a long day at the market, children rushing from playgrounds back home for dinner, neighbours waving goodbye to each other. 

Things he hasn’t seen in years. 

Ever since his parents’ deaths, Seungmin had been forbidden to step a foot out of the castle grounds. The fear that lived on, the superstitions that he was cursed as the orphaned prince, the rumours that fuelled fear, had forced Seungmin to be caged into the four walls of the castle, never to step foot outside and meet the townsfolk. 

He hasn’t seen any of the townsfolk in years. He remembers his father’s words instinctively, ringing in his ears. _What’s the point of being a king when you don’t even know who’s who in your kingdom?_

“Thinking, I suppose,” Seungmin replies. He glances up at Jeongin. “And you, Jeongin? What’re you doing out here?”

“Oh!” Jeongin flushes. “One of the cooks asked me to fetch you for dinner, so I went looking for you. I saw you through one of the top floor windows, so I decided to come down here.”

Seungmin grins. “Thanks. I’ll be in shortly.”

He glances back at the gates, sturdy and firm in their stance. The guards overlooking the palace from up there in the guard towers remain fixated in their jobs, furtively inspecting the place. To imagine that Changbin was going to sneak in, from right under the guards’ noses… Seungmin knew how wrong it was, for a prince like him to be involved in this predicament, but he can’t help the smile tickling at his lips.

Jeongin furrows his eyebrows. “You alright, Your Honour?”

Seungmin rolls his eyes at him. “You don’t have to call me that, remember?” he teases. 

Jeongin chuckles. “True, but you’re to be crowned king in three days,” he chirps. “I better get used to it! Seeing my friend being crowned as king is pretty exciting, honestly.”

The prince licks his lips, chapped from the dry winds. “Come sit here for a moment,” he suddenly says.

Clearly, Jeongin is surprised, but he decides to sit down anyway. He stares at Seungmin, searching for any sort of explanation for his abrupt request. “Did you want to tell me something?” he asks.

Seungmin looks at him. The golden rays of sunlight strike the boy’s irises, painting them a luscious brown dipped in gold. “Remember the story of our parents who drowned at sea four years ago?” he asks. 

He notices how Jeongin’s shoulders seize up. The younger swallows the lump in his throat. The hands on his knees curl into fists around the fabric of his pants. “Seungmin,” he chokes. “Why… why’re you bringing this up?”

Seungmin averts his gaze back to the setting sun. The castle walls may be high, but he can see the peaks of the mountains, the rays disappearing one by one behind the entire expanse of snow-capped hills. “Do you still blame yourself for what happened?” he whispers. 

There’s a momentary pause that slices the still air. “I… I don’t know,” he replies softly. His voice is feeble, barely audible. “My parents… they were your parents’ head advisors. And despite the seer’s words, they told your parents it was alright to continue their journey. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if it was fate’s doing all along, y’know?”

Mildly surprised by this, Seungmin’s eyes flit to the blank expression on Jeongin’s face. “What do you mean?” he asks. 

Jeongin twiddles with his thumbs. He exhales shakily, before saying, “Maybe… maybe because they insisted for your parents to continue the journey and turned against the seer’s words, maybe _that’s_ why they drowned along with your parents.” He coughs. “My parents were the cause of your parents’ deaths, and their own.”

Seungmin doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he wraps a comforting arm around Jeongin’s shoulder and allows the younger to sob into his robe. “Sorry for bringing this up,” he says quietly. “I’ve… been thinking about it, too.”

This time, Jeongin cries even harder than the day of their parents’ deaths. And Seungmin cradles him there, lets his childhood friend sob into his shoulder with trembling hands around Seungmin’s neck. 

Neither of them have ever tried to bring up the topic, because these memories always, _always_ reopen sore wounds. But sometimes you have to open up those wounds before you’re able to stitch them close again. And even if they’re stitched closed, the scars left behind leave a reminder of the pain that once struck you down - and a reminder that you rose to your feet once more.

♕♕♕

Days pass. Nights pass. With every passing day, Seungmin grew more and more restless. With every passing night, Seungmin grew more and more anxious. He knew the plan from A to Z, knew the risks and consequences, even predicted a few possible detours from their plan. 

“You’re worrying too much,” Changbin had laughed last night. “I can turn myself invisible, I’ve got some sick powers - as long as I’m here, you’ll live, yeah?”

But that’s what Seungmin is most worried about. Perhaps Changbin had already forgotten his grandpa’s words, but they remain fresh in Seungmin’s memory: _You’ll find out what is to occur during the dinner, and you’ll be there to stop it, but at an invaluable cost. At the cost of someone you hold dear to your heart._

Seungmin doesn’t want to believe in the truth, but the seer has never been wrong, not even once - and Seungmin knows that truth, through and through. Yet, he stands before the full-length mirror, two hours prior to the dinner party, in lavish silk and the smoothest of velvet linen. The tailors and hairdressers make a fuss as they dart across the room in panic, searching for pins and needles and thread and cloth. 

One of them gasps as she tightens the robe around his torso. “Your Honour!” she shrieks. “Have you not been eating? You’ve gotten thinner!”

Seungmin chuckles dryly. “It’s the nerves,” he insists. He doesn’t admit the fact that he’s become overly conscious of all the food served to him on silver platters for the past few nights. 

She clicks her tongue and whistles to one of the tailors. “Can I get a smaller needle? The stitches have to be unnoticeable at all costs!”

Much to Seungmin’s relief, the tailors finish up in a jiffy, leaving the hairdressers to style his hair. As they stand back to admire their handiwork, someone knocks against the hard wood of the powder room door. 

“Who is it?” one of the hair stylists hollers.

“Sangchul, Kim Sangchul,” a voice wavers. Seungmin presses his lips together into a thin line, maintaining his composure as the door creaks open. His uncle steps in, hair slicked back, face freshly shaven. If only one looked past that pressed suit and gleaming grin, then perhaps they’d see right through the plan forming in his evil head. 

In an instant, all the tailors and hair stylists hurriedly pack up their things and scurry out of the room meekly. One of them tries to run a comb through Seungmin’s hair one last time before dashing out, leaving Seungmin and his uncle looking at each other in their reflections.

“Your Honour,” Sangchul says. His voice is unreadable, devoid of emotion. “We await your arrival.”

Seungmin swallows the lump in his throat. “The ball isn’t until six in the evening,” he replies calmly. “I would rather spend that time waiting in the comforts of my bedroom.”

His uncle’s left eyebrow twitches. “Seungmin,” he says sternly. “You are to be crowned king in less than a day, and you expect to spend your time _alone_ in your bedroom?”

Seungmin hates this, hates his condescending voice, that sneer in his tone. How had he managed to put up with his uncle for the past four years? More importantly, how had his uncle put up such a front for the past four years? “I’m not crowned yet, aren’t I? Then let me rest by myself first, won’t you?” 

His voice comes out sharper than he intended to, and it’s obvious on his uncle’s face. “You’ve never raised your voice against me before,” he says lowly. “Just because you’re going to be king tomorrow means you have the authority to forget whatever I have taught you all these years?”

The prince closes his eyes, inhales deeply. Opens his eyes, exhales shakily. “Apologies,” he says, with a forced smile. “I shall see you in the main hall at five thirty.”

“Seungmin, you can’t-” 

Seungmin is out the door before he can hear anymore from Sangchul. He feels his guts turning inside out from very conversation, and he thinks he’s going to hurl. Standing in the same room as his uncle has always been one thing. 

Standing in the same room as the man who wants to kill him for his crown is an entirely different thing.

With his knees knocking against each other out of trepidation, Seungmin eventually reaches his bedroom and wrenches the door open. He closes the door behind him, locks it, and sighs. He pauses to hear for any footsteps outside, then decides he’s in the clear. “You can come out now, Changbin.”

The bathroom door clicks open, and out steps Changbin. Seungmin’s heart gallops, trodding over bumps in the road as he lays his eyes on Changbin. Instead of his worn-out garments, he’s dressed in a crisp white shirt, white pants, and a white chef hat hanging lopsided atop his dark hair. He looks almost angelic in the late evening sun streaming through the gaps in the curtains. 

Seungmin smiles. Warmth spreads from his chest, down to the tips of his fingers, his stomach, his toes. “You don’t look too bad,” he teases.

The other seems to be just as starstruck as Seungmin is. His eyes rake down the length of Seungmin’s body, then back up again to his eyes. “Says the handsomest in the room,” Changbin breathes. There’s not an ounce of playfulness in his tone, only pure genuineness - and that’s what makes the wings of the prince’s heart flutter even faster. 

“Oh, stop it, you.”

The pretender strides across the carpeted floor, until he stops short before the prince. Up close, Seungmin relishes in the view of the freshly-shaven Changbin, who smells a little like Seungmin’s honey shampoo, coupled with his sweat and usual musky cologne. “Not for a second,” he whispers. 

He places a delicate hand under Seungmin’s chin and tilts his head down a little. That’s all it takes for Seungmin to meet in the middle, their lips brushing lightly. Even after countless kisses and fervent touches shared in the nights, Seungmin still cannot process the tingle that shoots down his spine every time they kiss. 

It’s light, chaste, as if purposely making Seungmin crave for more. When they part, Changbin’s cheeks are flushed pink. “You really do look good, though,” Changbin smiles. “Whereas I look like an abomination. Why do chefs wear white when they’re dealing with food? Also, I still don’t get why I can’t just make myself invisible and go in.”

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “There’s about a thousand chefs running around like crazy in the kitchen tonight, silly,” Seungmin says. “You really want one of them bumping into air and freaking out the whole kitchen?”

“Touche,” Changbin chuckles. His arms wrap around Seungmin’s torso loosely, reeling him closer. “How can you prepare something so carefully? It’s as if you looked into the future yourself.”

Seungmin laughs and swats a hand at his shirt. “I just think more than you do. And get off of me, the dressmakers are going to kill you if there’s a single wrinkle on this robe.”

“Whatever,” Changbin giggles. “You’re not even going to wear it after this.”

Seungmin sighs, but he can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “C’mon, you, get downstairs to the kitchen. You’ve manipulated the list already, right?”

“Yeah.”

Seungmin narrows his eyes. “What position did you take up?”

“The washing dude,” Changbin chirps. “Which is easy work — I’ll have nothing to do at the start.”

Seungmin frowns. “Don’t raise unnecessary suspicion, okay?” he insists. 

Anxiety pools in his gut as he watches Changbin beam at him and proudly proclaim, “Of course, Seungminnie!” He swallows the bundle of nerves in his throat. Despite their meticulous planning, covering the ‘what if’s’ and ‘why not’s, Seungmin can’t help but feel a sort of dread tugging at his coattails. 

It’s like tying a knot, thinking it was perfectly tight and fit, until someone comes along and unravels it in a blink of an eye.

Changbin seems to notice this, and he raises a hand to Seungmin’s cheek. “Hey,” he says gently. “Don’t worry your head off now, okay? I’m handling everything behind the scenes. You just pretend like you’re enjoying chatting with all those aristocrats and barons and whoever else out there, okay?”

Seungmin allows himself to lean against Changbin’s calloused palm. “Okay,” he finally says. “Now go. You’re going to be late.”

Changbin grins, presses a kiss to Seungmin’s cheek, before bounding out the door. Before he leaves, though, he shoots Seungmin one last glance over his shoulder. Seungmin does a little wave at him, grinning at his figure until he dissipates into thin air. 

_Please,_ Seungmin pleads. _Please let it all go well._

♕♕♕

“Washing boy! Get your ass over here!”

Fuck. Changbin _definitely_ should’ve thought this through a little more. He’d thought that doing the washing-up wouldn’t be required as much in the beginning, but the sinks are overflowing with cooking pots and pans and silverware stacking up, mountain after mountain. He grits his teeth and hisses, “Coming!” before rushing off to the other end of the kitchen.

The kitchen, Changbin discovers, is a little world of its own. Red-faced chefs chop away at onions, garlic, potatoes, chicken and fish. A hundred pots and pans sizzle and simmer, bubbles popping away as the kettles are put on boil. A cacophony of shrill voices erupt in Changbin’s eardrums, and with every passing second, the chefs grow more and more frantic, and begin screaming louder and louder,

Thankfully, with the turmoil buzzing in the kitchen, he hadn’t had much trouble trying to sneak his name onto the long, long list of chefs from the catering company hired to cook up the night’s feast. 

Changbin almost trips over his own two feet as he stumbles for the sinks. He hurriedly dons on the washing gloves and snatches up the sponge. As he scrubs away at the oil-stained pans, his eyes dart from one corner of the room to the other in search of Jeongin. “Tall, dark-haired, eyes kinda look like a fox’s,” Seungmin had described. “He’ll stick out like a sore thumb amongst the chefs.”

Changbin dumps the washed pots on the drying rack, ignoring the few soap suds on the plates and pots. He swivels around to have a good bird’s eye view of the entire kitchen. There’s a clatter of a pot clashing against the tiled floors, a gasp, followed by an especially loud berating. Changbin winces. He hadn’t known palace life would be this hard.

Then again, it wasn’t every day that a prince was to be crowned king after four years of the king and queen’s absence. The empty throne is to be sat by its heir in less than twenty-four hours. Changbin supposes anyone would be freaking out now.

A ghost of a grin hovers over his lips. _And I’m dating the goddamned heir of Alta,_ he thinks wistfully. He hasn’t really asked Seungmin to be his boyfriend properly yet; he knows Seugmin has more on his plate than he ever has. Then again, Changbin wonders what it’d be like if he _were_ married to royalty…

“Daydreamer! Wake the hell up!” one of the chefs grunts. “Did you hear ‘em? There’s more pots down by that aisle!”

“Yes, sir!” Changbin squeaks. He whizzes off down to the next aisle, and hauls the empty pots up and into his arms. As he dashes off to the sinks, the doors to the kitchen swing open with a resounding creak.

None of the other chefs notice, too engrossed in their work to lift their heads and acknowledge the passer-by. Only Changbin’s eyes flit up and lock onto the boy sheepishly shuffling into the kitchen. His shaggy dark hair falls just past his eyebrows, framing a pair of eyes curved at the ends. He’s wearing a clean white shirt tucked into black slacks, the formal attire of all the servants of the castle tonight. 

And in his hand, he clutches onto a glass vial. 

A spike of adrenaline bursts a dam in Changbin’s heart. He swallows, dumps the plates into the sink, and begins to slowly make his way towards Jeongin. He dodges flailing hands and panicked chefs as he walks down the aisles. Jeongin’s still peering around, confused, seeming to find the chef to pass the vial to. 

Changbin turns the corner, ready to rush down the aisle and intercept him, when he bumps into someone else. 

“Oh, sorry.” Changbin glimpses up to meet a pair of steely cold eyes glaring down at him. He does not sound sorry at all. “Didn’t see you there.”

Changbin freezes. This man’s face looks eerily like Seungmin’s father’s — save for the cold, cold eyes. He recognises the family brooch pinned to the man’s suit, and he tries not to show the panic on his face. 

Seungmin’s uncle. The traitor.

The _murderer._

“Uh, sorry,” Changbin mutters, and tries to side-step in an attempt to walk past him. Sangchul reads his mind, though, and he steps to the side, too. Changbin furrows his eyebrows and steps to the other side.

And the man steps to the other side, too.

“Um, I’m kinda rushing off someplace, so could you-”

“-you didn’t look like you were in a hurry a few seconds ago,” Sangchul comments. His tone should be light, playful, but there’s an underlying sneer somewhere in his words. “Do you even belong here? You look awfully confused, my boy.”

Changbin grits his teeth. Not the time to let down my guard, he thinks. He trains his eyes on Sangchul and says firmly, “Why wouldn’t I belong here?” he asks. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some stuff to do-”

“-washer boy! I said, get your ass over here!”

A smirk spreads across Changbin’s face. “See? Told ya,” he simpers, before turning on his heel and marching off. He doesn’t dare to look back to catch the shock on Sangchul’s face. Out of his peripheral vision, he does notice Sangchul disappearing beyond the kitchen doors. 

He also notices that Jeongin is nowhere to be found.

“Fuck.” Changbin frantically searches the kitchen for a sign of the servant, but he is nowhere to be found. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he hisses. His heart races against his chest. Anxiety licks at his feet now, as he swivels around to find the boy with the glass vial. “No, no, no-”

“-washer boy, do you wanna get your face smashed into the stove, or are you gonna come here?!”

Changbin hesitates, but only for a moment, before dashing off and out of the kitchen. One of the chef screams blue murder at him as he shoves the kitchen doors open and races out. 

At least he’s going to lose a job he never had in the first place. 

♕♕♕

Seungmin stands stiffly as he overlooks the ballroom. The sea of people surges through the room in successive waves, the ends of ballroom gowns skimming the floors clicking with the sound of pointed leather shoes. Chatter runs above the melody of the music played by the small orchestra off by the side of the ballroom, violins and cellos and harps and all. 

_The guest list could go on for miles and miles_ , Seungmin thinks, as he scans the crowd for any familiar faces. He can make out a few, but there are a hundred too many faces that remain unrecognisable to him. He grips his left arm tight, feeling too out of place in his very own dinner ball. 

Sangchul reappears, slipping into place beside him. “Why aren’t you greeting the guests?” he frowns. “This is your first impression to everyone here as the king of Alta.”

Seungmin grits his teeth and turns his head away. “I barely know anyone here,” he protests. “And I bet no one here even knows who I am — they probably just came for the food and the prestige.”

Sangchul sighs. “C’mon now,” he says, as if he weren’t plotting for Seungmin’s imminent death in an hour’s time. “Let’s get you going, shall we?”

Seungmin huffs, but he does as he’s told. He steps out from the corner of the ballroom and enters the vast expanse. As if on cue, all eyes flit and land on him as he emerges into plain view. Seungmin feels starkly awkward and a bit of a prude under all these layers of shirts and robes. The joint in his elbow creaks as he lifts up a silk-clad hand in a wave. 

There’s a round of polite applause — not enthusiastic, but at least there’s some form of response. Otherwise, this night would’ve been awkward from the get-go. 

Seungmin ends up caught in the web of several ladies, some of them mistresses, a princess of somewhere, and the lady-in-waiting of some other queen. They press their powdered faces up against Seungmin’s cheeks to give him obnoxiously loud kisses. Seungmin tries not to flinch, but it’s so hard when his hand is practically begging to wipe across his face. 

The hour drags on and on for forever. A range of guests swoop down upon Seungmin like vultures circling their prey, from aristocrats and ministers, to princes and even the king of somewhere else. Seungmin struggles to maintain the fake smile plastered across his face. In reality, his heart pounds away against his ribcage, drumming with a peak of adrenaline and anxiety. 

He keeps casting furtive glances at the crowd around him, just to see if he can catch Jeongin anywhere. But all of the servants are nowhere to be seen, probably too caught up in arranging for the feast later. Seungmin can only trust Changbin right here, right now, and continues to maintain his composure for the rest of the conversations that ensue.

At long last, the gong resounds, reverberating throughout the ballroom. “Dinner will soon be served,” the announcer says, before bowing. In an instance, the crowd is ushered into the dining hall, with Seungmin leading the group alongside his uncle. Behind him, the panel of head advisors barely hide how they’re burning holes into Seungmin’s back. _Of course they are,_ he thinks miserably. 

They emerge in the dining hall. The chandelier casts long shadows upon the long table. Silverware, cutlery and wine glasses lay pristinely atop the white tablecloth with its gold accents. A servant stands by every chair, dressed in suits with a napkin over their arms. _It’s a little bit excessive, isn’t it?_ Seungmin wonders. _Considering I’m potentially dying in the next ten minutes or so._

Seungmin is led up to the very head of the table. Oh, great. More eyes on him. The head servant, Minho, guides Seungmin to his chair and pulls it out quietly. The other servants do the same. “After you, Your Honour,” he says with a curt bow. 

Seungmin smiles tightly before sitting down. The other guests follow suit. The table is a hive of activity, with ministers and nobles chattering away and laughing as the conversation ensues. It’s sickeningly terrifying, how none of them are made aware at all of the events to unfold. Under the tablecloth, Seungmin clenches his hands into fists and grits his teeth. 

His eyes dart across the room, in search of Jeongin. He finds him standing next to the princess of somewhere-somewhere. The caretaker busies himself, fetching the princess a glass of water and helping to adjust the napkin on her lap. 

Seungmin wonders if Jeongin suspected anything at all, with the vial he’d received. It’s not like Seungmin would need medicine in his meal, after all. _Unless Sangchul guilt-tripped him,_ he thinks, _which is probably likely._

The same announcer from before sounds the trumpet, and the room falls to a quiet hush. Standing tall and foreboding at the front of the room, he unfurls a scroll, clears his throat, and bellows, “Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great delight that I announce the beginning of the ceremonial dinner, in lieu of Our Majesty’s coronation to take place till-morrow. We will begin with the appetisers: soup of wild mushroom, gruyere and crab palmiers, and avocado bruschetta.”

On cue, a long line of waiters emerge from the kitchen doors, a napkin on one arm, a silver tray on the other. They march forward in unison, their shoes clicking rhythmically against the marble tiled floors, their heads held high, faces monotonous.

Only one of them is out of beat.

As the waiters begin lining up along the tables with their designated guests, Seungmin can’t help how his lips part open in shock. Somewhere along the line, a waiter fumbles with his tray and walks out of beat, his footsteps uncoordinated, his face starkly familiar. Seungmin swallows down his nerves as the waiter nears his chair

And stops right behind him. 

Seungmin holds his breath. _Fuck._ He should’ve known something must’ve gone wrong. A million questions race through Seungmin’s head, and he’s so, so tempted to swivel around and let them spill from his lips in a rush of words. But all he can do is look on placidly, a stone cold expression aligned with the grim line on his lips.

“Dinner has now been served.”

The tray is lowered and placed before Seungmin. Before the waiter moves back, though, he whispers something so, so softly into the shell of Seungmin’s right ear. 

“Don’t touch any of it.”

Seungmin gulps. He gives the slightest nod of his head. The waiter nods, takes a step back, and is about to turn on his heel and return to the line of waiters, when the doors to the dining hall swing open with a resounding _bam!_ Startled, the guests gasp in horror as a man stumbles in, his white shirt untucked, hair dishevelled, mouth gagged with a white napkin.

The man tears the napkin out of his mouth and screams, “Intruder in the castle! An imposter! That man ain’t a waiter — he just stole my job!”

Everyone follows the direction of the man’s fingertip, pointing at someone in the distance. The guests’ eyes travel all along the table, past the bowls of soup and spoons and cups and pastries — until they land right on the man hovering over Seungmin.

Seungmin exhales shakily. “Changbin,” he whispers. “ _Run._ ”

Everything happens in an instance. Changbin drops the tray to the floor with a noisy clatter, and he takes off. The several guards by the sides of the dining hall chase hot after his heels, leaving the rest of the guests shocked out of their wits, some eager to join in the action.

Seungmin doesn’t think — no, he _can’t_ think. His mind draws a line, a blank, blank line. So blank that he scrambles to his feet, turns on his heels and chases right after the guards. The guests gasp, the guards scream at him, his uncle snarls at him — but Seungmin’s mind is nothing but a dark, bottomless pit. 

The only thing that remains sound is his thunderous heart, pounding away to the rhythm of his steps.

He takes off after the guards. His muscles cry in agony, but he pushes and pushes and pushes, and somehow, just _somehow,_ he slips right past the guards. He slithers in between the gap between a guard and the plastered wall, and he manages to swoop right past their noses. “Changbin! Turn left!”

Up ahead, Changbin glances over his shoulder. The look of shock on his face is unmistakable. Yet, all he does is nod, and turn a sharp corner to the left. 

As Seungmin turns to the left, he yells with all his might, “Now, Changbin, now!”

Changbin stops in his tracks, turns sharply on his heels and swings an arm across the air. A decorative pillar looming overhead, right at the junction, comes crumbling down to the carpeted floor. A cloud of dust rises from the debris, and Seungmin is glad that he’d timed it well — the guards are safe, unharmed, but blocked away from them.

Seungmin grabs Changbin by the sleeve. “C’mon, we need to get you out of here!”

The two boys tear down the corridor. Behind them, Seungmin can hear the guards heaving and grunting, desperate to move the fallen pillar. _That’ll buy us a lot of time,_ Seungmin thinks. Instinctively, he grabs Changbin’s hand and loops his fingers around Changbin’s. 

Surprised, Changbin peers at him. “Seungmin, I-”

“-don’t you _dare_ apologise,” Seungmin interrupts. “Whatever happens right now is because of all of us, not just you. Let’s get you up to the nearest balcony; the observatory deck should be at this next hallway.”

When they turn a sharp corner, Seungmin’s heart deflates at the sight of the dead end.

“Fuck,” Seungmin hisses. He’d been thinking so hard about the pillar as a distraction, that he hadn’t realised they’d taken the wrong turn. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Seungmin, calm down,” Changbin insists. “I can try permeating through the walls, but the walls here are pretty thick. But I can just go invisible until-”

Neither of them notice the man lingering behind them, until Seungmin screams. 

Seungmin doesn’t register the sharp pain exploding in his shoulder until he crashes against the floor. He parts his lips into a scream, until a large, sweaty palm covers over his mouth. “I’d shut up if I were you, psychic boy.”

Seungmin’s eyes water at the sight of his uncle caging him against the floor, a hand over his mouth, the other gripping onto something silver. Panic rises in his throat when he realises just what it is — a syringe, and inside it, a familiar light blue liquid, sloshing around. “I suspected you’d know about this,” Sangchul seethes. “So I prepared myself a Plan B. Unlike the both of you.”

Seungmin struggles under his uncle’s arm. “How… how did you get here?” he whispers hoarsely. “The pillar…”

“There’s more secret passageways in this palace than you’d know of, little prince,” Sangchul simpers. “Ones that only your parents and I knew. Which adds on to the very, very long list of why _I_ should be king, not _you._ ”

Changbin snarls and charges towards Sangchul, but his uncle beats him to it. “Not one more step closer, lover boy,” Sangchul says. “Or else this needle’s going straight into your precious boyfriend’s throat.”

Seungmin gulps. “You knew,” he whispers. 

Sangchul glares down at him. It’s strange, really, at how this particular moment, Seungmin realises just how much his uncle resembles his father. The eyes, the nose, the mouth. The only thing that separates the both of them, after all, are their clashing ideals, principles, and mannerisms. “Of course I knew. You think I don’t know what the seer’s boy looks like? You think I forgot how infatuated you were with him when you were young? After all, old habits die hard, don’t they? Still not normal after all this time?”

“Yah,” Changbin hisses. Steam gushes from his reddening ears. “You don’t get to talk to him like that.”

“But I can.” Sangchul’s grin sharpens into a wicked smirk. “Because he’s about to die, lover boy.”

Seungmin squeezes his eyes shut, already waiting for the moment the needle stabs into his skin. Already waiting for the moment the liquid bursts into his veins, mixing with his blood, rushing to his heart and shutting it down. Already waiting for the moment Changbin cries out loud–

–And tackles Sangchul to the ground.

“Changbin!” 

Seungmin instantly scrambles to his feet. Dazed, he notices the syringe on the floor, and immediately pushes the pump all the way, letting the liquid spill to the floor and seep into the carpet, before throwing the syringe to the far end of the hallway. He turns to see Changbin wrestling Sangchul on the ground, hands wrapped around his uncle’s neck.

And then Changbin _pushes._

“No.” Seungmin’s eyes widen. His mind snaps from its blank daze, to snapshots of an eleven-year-old Changbin experimenting with a daffodil flower. How the yellow petals blackened, how the leaves curled and dried up, how the stems and leaves and all drooped.

How devoid of life it became.

“No, no, no! Changbin, stop!”

But he doesn’t listen. Changbin cries out loud, pushes harder against Sangchul’s neck. To Seungmin’s absolute horror, the colour leaks from his uncle’s face, skin paling faster than he can imagine. “Changbin, stop! Stop!” Seungmin screams. 

But he doesn’t listen. Tears run down Seungmin’s cheeks as he rushes over to Changbin. Despite the blaring warning sirens, Seungmin throws himself over Changbin, wrapping his arms around his back and laying his head against the crook of Changbin’s shoulder, strong and safe. “Changbin, stop. Please,” Seungmin pleads. “You don’t have to do this. Don’t do this. Don’t, don’t, _don’t._ ”

But he doesn’t listen. Now, Seungmin can see the darkness in his uncle’s eyes, how he chokes and coughs up blood. It splatters onto Changbin’s hands — but Changbin doesn’t see. He _can’t_ see, for his eyes have glazed over, and the centremost whites of his pupils have blackened into pools of vengeance. Of fury. Of anger. Of contempt.

Time seems to slow. Everything, from the moment Seungmin had met Changbin all those years ago, to the moment Changbin had shown him his magic powers; from the moment Seungmin had lost his parents who’d drowned at sea, to the moment Changbin had crept up to his room to comfort him; from the moment Changbin had started meeting him secretly in the castle grounds every night, to the moment Seungmin had started falling asleep against the shoulder of the boy he loves; from the moment Seungmin had yearned to prove himself as king, to now.

All those moments come crumbling down upon Seungmin in an instance, the crash of a wave to the shore, and a memory comes tumbling out from his mind.

Seungmin remembers, faintly, of how the seer looked at him in the eye and said those words. _You’ll find out what is to occur during the dinner, and you’ll be there to stop it, but at an invaluable cost. At the cost of someone you hold dear to your heart._

_Changbin._

“Changbin,” he whispers. His own tears have fallen past the corners of his eyes, spilling out onto his cheeks. Instead of yanking away his arms, he lets his own hand brush against the hairs on the nape of Changbin’s neck. “Don’t. Please, don’t, okay? For you. And for me.”

_Though, I think you won’t have a problem with that—_

“Changbin, look at me,” Seungmin pleads. His other hand rests on Changbin’s jaw, and, ever so gently, tilts it up. “Look at me, Changbin. Look.”

Changbin’s eyes tear away from Sangchul, and lock in Seungmin’s piercing gaze. The moment their eyes meet, Changbin’s grip on Sangchul falters away. “That’s right,” Seungmin nods. His tears have fallen past his chin, dripping onto his robes. And yet, the vision of Changbin in his view is sharper, closer, more beautiful than ever. “Just look at me, okay? At me.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the energy pouring from Changbin’s fingertips, back into Sangchul’s body, bit by bit. His eyes flit back to Changbin’s, and his heart crumbles at how vacant his expression still is, devoid of emotion. _He’s still not back here, with me._ “Changbin, look at me, okay?”

Now, he listens. He doesn’t look away. Instead, he glimpses up to Seungmin’s eyes, kneeled over on the floor, knees knocking against Seungmin’s own on the carpet. It resembles so eerily close to their very first kiss, and so Seungmin places both palms flat on Changbin’s cheeks, reels him in close, and kisses him. 

It’s chaste, quiet, but roars with a thousand emotions in Seungmin’s ears. 

_—so long as you open your heart._

This time, he shares a memory, as he has throughout this story. But this time, he shares it with Changbin, too.

♕♕♕

When Seungmin was fifteen, he went walking in the forest with his best friend Changbin, looping between the towering trunks of the overbearing trees, ducking under low branches and hopping over ragged undergrowth. The sun beat down on the two boys as they ventured further into the forest than ever before.

And then Seungmin heard it. He paused in his tracks, and craned his neck to hear. “Changbin,” he said softly. “Do you hear that?”

Changbin turned around, confused. “Hear what?”

Seungmin placed a finger on his lips, signally for him to stay quiet. This time, the sound was louder, clearer. The successive chirps continued on, relentlessly, helplessly. “It’s somewhere to the right of us,” Seungmin proclaimed. “C’mon.”

The both of them tripped over a few fallen branches. The sound grew louder and louder, until Seungmin noticed the fluttering of light blue wings not too far off, hidden amongst the wild berry bushes. “It’s here!” he said, and he dashed over to the bushes and peered into the overgrowing leaves.

He swallowed his gasp as he stared at the bird, who couldn’t possibly be an adult at all — probably still a young chick. Its eyes wobbled, its beak drooped, as it struggled to move its torn wing. 

Changbin peered over Seungmin’s shoulder and sucked in a sharp breath. “Its wing sure looks beat up,” he mumbled. 

Carefully, Seungmin scooped the baby bird into his palms. At first, the bird chirped louder, frantic, wings flapping uselessly as it tried to escape from Seungmin. “Shh, it’s okay,” the prince grinned. “Changbinnie will take good care of you.”

“Wait.” Changbin furrowed his eyebrows. “Me?”

Seungmin raised the bird up to Changbin’s eye-level. “Remember? You can make dead things alive again. Surely you can help heal this bird, can’t you?”

Changbin grimaced. “I haven’t used that power since… since the last time I showed you, which, mind you, was ages ago.”

Seungmin frowned and looked down at the bird, its subdued tittering and chirping. “Can’t you try at least?”

Changbin sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Look, Seungmin, I really would, but…”

“But what’s stopping you?” Seungmin insisted. “You’re the one who complains that no one knows of your powers, and that your powers are for no good — they are for good! You can save this bird!”

“I’m scared I’m going to kill it!” Changbin blurted. Stunned, Seungmin’s mouth clamped shut. “I… I don’t use it often because I’m worried it’ll go out of control. That time I showed you my power? I ran a fever the day after that, because it took all my willpower to control myself.”

Seungmin frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Changbin shrugged half-heartedly. “Because I knew you’d worry about me,” he muttered. “And I don’t like that, y’know? I’d rather just deal with it myself.”

Seungmin didn’t say anything else. Instead, he lowered himself to a seating position, and placed the bird upon the dead leaves on the forest grounds. “What if I helped you?”

Changbin lowered himself to the ground, too, with a puzzled look on his face. “What?”

Seungmin grinned. “You harness the energy, don’t you? That’s how you killed and saved that flower years ago, when you showed me. You took the energy from the flower, and gave it back to it. Maybe if you gave your energy to the bird, and at the same time borrowed mine, wouldn’t that help you?”

Changbin frowned. “I don’t think it works that way, Seungminnie,” he pointed out.

“Doesn’t it, though? It’s the law of the conservation of energy,” Seungmin said. 

“The fuck is that?”

Seungmin waved a hand in the air, dismissing the subject. “Forgot you don’t go to school. Whatever. The thing is, I help you, uh, spiritually? Like, I could hold your hand or something.”

Changbin raised an eyebrow. “Uh, sure,” he said, hesitant. “Though I don’t know how that’s supposed to help.”

Seungmin chuckled. “I don’t know either,” he admitted. “Just a hunch. Now, c’mon. Do your thing, hero.”

“Not a hero,” Changbin corrected, but he couldn’t hide the smile tickling his lips; Seungmin knew, and still knows, that for sure. He stretched out a hand for Seungmin to hold; the other grazed the bird’s broken wing, his fingers tracing its feather delicately. The bird’s insistent chirping slowly ebbed into a slow hum.

Seungmin curled his fingers around Changbin’s, tight. He’d held Changbin’s hand countless times before, but he’s just begun to notice how rough and calloused his palm is, and yet so warm, so snug. How it fit so perfectly in his own hand. Seungmin tried to quieten his beating heart, but it only pounded louder and louder with every passing second.

And when Changbin pushed, Seungmin gasped. He could almost feel the energy leaking from his fingers, right into the knuckles of Changbin’s own hand. It wasn’t too much, just a trickle, like turning the faucet on by just a fraction of an inch. And yet, he felt buzzed, delirious in some way, even after Changbin finally let go of his hand.

“Shit, Seungmin.” Changbin places a warm hand against Seungmin’s back. “You okay?”

The prince nodded slowly, still slightly dazed from the entire ordeal. “Peachy,” he said. When he glanced down at the bird, his eyes widened at the glorious sight before them: the bird’s wing was completely healed, and it hopped back onto its feet, gave its wings a little flap, and chirped happily once more. 

Seungmin’s eyes pricked with tears. “Changbin, you did it! You saved it, you healed its wing, and-”

But when Seungmin turned to look at Changbin, he cut himself off, too surprised to see the look on Changbin’s face. His sharp eyes softened, scintillating under the sun. The summer breeze kicked up his hair, brushing it across his forehead, his eyes. It’s grown even longer now, but it looked so delicate, framed by the long afternoon rays.

“Nah,” he replied, his grin never once fading. “Not me. _You_ did it.”

♕♕♕

When Seungmin pulls back, all life is restored back into Changbin’s soft, soft eyes. He blinks, dazed, as he reels back in surprise. 

“Seungmin…?”

The colour rises in Changbin’s cheeks again. His eyes are still glazed over, but he wrenches out a hand to grasp onto Seungmin’s wrists. “You… were in my head.”

Seungmin shivers, but he clamps his trembling lips together and instead clasps onto Changbin’s hands together, tightly. “I was,” he admits.

Changbin’s eyes widen. “How did you do that?” he whispers.

Despite the situation, the catastrophe and the calamity of the evening, Seungmin laughs heartily. “I honestly don’t know,” he replies. “All I know was I wanted to open up my heart to you, so you wouldn’t have to shut yours out. Make sense?”

“Uh, well, not really…?”

“Your Honour!” 

Startled, the two boys jerk back. At the forefront of the guards, Younghyun blinks at the both of them, then glances at Sangchul on the floor. “Your Honour, what happened…?”

“Wait, wait, make way please!” another voice warbled from behind the troops of guards. The guards part a space in the middle, making way for Chan to stumble forward. He hurriedly bows at Seungmin, and straightens up before Younghyun. “Sir, we have CCTV footage of the incident that just took place here. We caught Chief Advisor Sangchul tackling the prince to the floor, and he was about to poison Seungmin with whatever was in that syringe.” With that, he points at the forgotten syringe lying on the carpeted floor. 

Several of the guards help Seungmin and Changbin to their feet. As they do, Younghyun glimpses at Changbin, confused. “Then who is this? What does this intruder have to do with this scheme?”

“I can explain,” Seungmin blurts. “But _please_ don’t lock him up for intruding. It was my idea.”

“Your idea?” Chan frowns. “But how would you-”

“-I can explain everything later, in front of the High Court,” Seungmin interrupts. “But I knew this was going to happen. And Changbin here is an… acquaintance of mine. I sneaked him in to help me reverse this plan. I’ve known about my uncl- Sangchul’s plan for a while now.”

Younghyun's expression softens. “Your Honour, I do not mean to be rude, but why didn’t you consult the advisors? Or the guards?”

Seungmin freezes. He parts his lips to speak — but Changbin beats him to it. “He didn’t consult the advisors because they wouldn’t believe him. He didn’t consult the guards because you wouldn’t believe him, not when his uncle is the one who everyone wishes to be king, not Seungmin.”

“And who are you to accuse us of all that, intruder?” one of the guards interjects.

“We’re acquaintances,” Changbin says, his voice growing louder. He stands up straighter, and gently shakes the guard’s arm off of his sleeve. “I’m Seo Changbin, grandson of the local seer, Seo Changho.”

There’s a pause in the conversation. The guards can only stare on in silence, at the familiarity of the name, before the realisation sinks in deep. Younghyun speaks first. “You’ve been banished from Alta for four years now, haven’t you? What on… _How_ on Earth have you kept in contact with Our Honour?”

“Look, I can explain-” Seungmin says, stumbling forward. His knees buckle, though, and he yelps as he tips forward. The guards rush forward, arms outstretched — but Changbin’s faster. He squeaks as he swishes his hand in the air, yanking Seungmin back onto his two feet. 

Everyone freezes in stunned silence.

“Uh…” Changbin blinks. “That… was not supposed to happen.”

“Well, it’s on the CCTV footage,” Chan grins, visibly more composed than the other guards, whose jaws have all clattered to the floor. “Guess it ain’t a secret anymore, then.”

Younghyun rubs his jaw, exasperated. “Okay, whatever _that_ was, we’ve got a long night ahead of us,” he admits. “But more importantly…” He glares down at Sangchul, who’s just beginning to regain consciousness, writhing on the floor. “... Let’s settle the obvious murderer here first, shall we?”

♕♕♕

Every night used to pass like clockwork. Most nights, Seungmin would sweep past the long corridors, hands grazing the tapestries of his family portraits, his mother and father staring down at him as he wondered if he could even remember their smiles, their voices, their love and affection.

And yet, these past two weeks have been anything but normal, predictable. Sure, Seungmin had long learned the legal system of Alta, everything from the High Court to the punishments that followed any and all acts of treason. He hadn't realised how confusing and exhausting the entire procedure would be, though, especially with the shocking revelation of Changbin’s powers, paired with his uncle’s devious scheme.

What surprised Seungmin more was how quickly Sangchul leaked the rest of the men involved in his grand scheme. Apparently, the man who’d pawned the vial of poison was one of the suppliers for the castle, and two other leading advisors had egged Sangchul on and supported his plan. 

Every night, Seungmin falls asleep with a heavy heart, and a churning gut. His mind doesn’t let him rest — not when the verdict hasn’t been made with what to do about Changbin. His mind reels with the memory of Changbin’s grandparents escorted to the castle, the look of shock on his grandma’s face, the blank look on his grandfather’s face.

Even now, as Seungmin stares up at his ceiling, his hands curl into fists. Changbin’s grandfather had known all along, hadn’t he? Hadn’t he been able to read ahead into the future? Couldn’t he have just said something, revealed the plan days prior? _And none of this would’ve happened,_ Seungmin thinks. So why hadn’t he said anything? Did he want to get his own grandson into trouble? And for what cause?

His blood boils. Without a moment’s hesitation, Seungmin leaps off of his bed, stuffs his feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, ties the knot around the waist of his night robe and marches to the door. He quietly slips past the door, down the hallway, and down the stairs to the first floor, where Changbin’s grandparents were residing. Changbin was only going to present himself in the court in two days’ time — enough time for Seungmin to get down to the bottom of this, once and for all.

He hadn’t been able to see Changbin since the incident. Well, at least, not without a barrier between them. It didn’t feel the same talking to Changbin with a double glazed window between the both of their faces. The past two weeks had been as much a blur for him as it had been for Changbin. The long wait was excruciating, made even worse by the fact that everyone who knew about Changbin’s powers were now so wary around him.

When Seungmin was ten, he’d thought it to be weird as to why Changbin didn’t use his powers to be a hero. Ten years later, Seungmin now knows the very reason why. If this kingdom had always been cautious around the local seer, who knows what they would think of someone with powers living amongst the townsfolk?

Seungmin turns the corner and almost shrieks at the sight of the shadow in the hallway. The light from the candle illuminates Jeongin’s bright eyes, wide from shock too. He squeaks and jumps in the air. “Seungmin!” he gasps. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“It’s fine; I didn’t hear you either,” Seungmin admits. He swallows the lump in his throat. He hasn’t spoken to Jeongin very much since the incident, too, and the only time he’d properly seen him was during his hearing. Seungmin remembers the tears leaking from Jeongin’s eyes when he’d admitted he’d been a part of the plan, in front of the judges that day.

Jeongin gulps. “I was… on my way to my quarters, but I noticed a window was left open. I’ll… be heading off now. Good night, Seungmi-”

“-wait, Jeongin.”

Jeongin swivels around sharply, surprised. “Um, yeah?”

Seungmin smiles softly. “Could you spare a few minutes?”

Hesitance lingers in the air, for a moment, before Jeongin nods his head. “Alright. Lead the way.”

The both of them scamper down to the main entrance. Seungmin manages to plead with the guards at the front doors, just for the both of them to head down to the gardens for a moment. After the slight nod from the guards, Seungmin grabs Jeongin’s hand and leads him towards the rose maze. The journey is longer, of course, without Changbin’s magic, but Seungmin relishes in the sound of the grass squelching under his slippers, damp from the afternoon rain. They zigzag through the maze — the route has been etched permanently in Seungmin’s mind — and stop at the middle fountain. 

Jeongin brushes a leaf from his shoulder, and raises his candle up. “Why’d you bring me here?” he asks.

Seungmin grins. “I thought I wanted to bring you here to tell you something.”

At this, Jeongin freezes. “If it’s…. About whatever happened recently… I’d rather not talk about it-”

“-if we just talk about it now and get it over with, we’ll never talk about it again,” Seungmin insists. Once Jeongin’s shoulders lower slightly, he continues. “Look, Jeongin, I really want you to know that I don’t blame you for whatever that’s happened.”

Jeongin doesn’t say anything. Instead, he sets the candle down on the edge of the fountain, letting the spray of water drown out its light. “You can tell me that every day, Seungmin,” he mumbles, “but I’ll never forgive myself.”

Seungmin frowns. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” Jeongin blurts. He averts his gaze away from Seungmin, and stares at the fountain. “If it hadn’t been for Changbin, you would’ve drunk your soup. I can’t believe how stupid I was for believing your uncle. Having your meds in your soup? What kind of bullshit did I fall for?”

The prince looks on at Jeongin. He’s only a year younger than Seungmin, and yet, the years of hard work at the castle, coupled with the hardships and losses he’d faced in the past years, made Jeongin look much older than he actually was. There holds a lingering fragment of innocence in his watery eyes, that reminds Seungmin of how the guilt was gobbling Jeongin up.

Nothing he said would change Jeongin’s mind, and so Seungmin does the next thing on his mind — he strides towards Jeongin and instinctively wraps his arms around his friend’s shoulders, and hugs him. 

Jeongin tenses from the sudden contact, but he eventually gives into the hug. He carefully embraces Seungmin, and lowers his head into the crook of Seungmin’s neck. Before the latter can ask why, he hears Jeongin sniffle into the shoulder of his night robe.

“Every night since then, I kept thinking,” Jeongin hiccups. “What if you _did_ drink the soup? What if you _did_ get poisoned? What would happen then? I don’t know anyone else here as well as I know you — you’re my best friend, Seungmin. I can’t bear the thought of even losing you.”

Wordlessly, Seungmin strokes his friend’s back softly with a comforting hand, the same way he had when Jeongin was told his parents had drowned with the king and queen on their sail. He vividly remembers the look of fright, of fury, of regret etched into Jeongin’s crumbling face, as how it is now.

“Jeongin, look at me,” Seungmin says. “I’m still alive, aren’t I? Don’t think about the ‘what if’s’, or the ‘how’s’ and ‘why’s’. Everything turned out okay in the end. There’s nothing for you to regret at all. You were simply in a helpless position, a bait to my uncle’s plan, and nothing more than that.”

Jeongin shudders in Seungmin’s arms. “But-”

“-Jeongin.” Seungmin pulls back slightly, and smiles at his friend. “I rented out this place for you.” 

Confused, Jeongin knits his eyebrows together. “What? What do you mean…” Realisation sinks in, and he gasps loudly. “No, you didn’t!”

“It’s a little way ahead, just near the town market,” Seungmin explains. “It’s a nice little apartment situated close to the bakery, and the library, and you can see the sun set over the balcony.” He grins. “I know you’ve never wanted to stay here, after all. You felt… indebted to me. To my family.”

Jeongin nods slowly. Tears spring to his eyes again, and roll down his cheeks in twin rivers. “Why’re you doing this for me?” he whispers. “After all I’ve put you through?”

Seungmin rubs his hands over Jeongin’s arms soothingly. “Because you’ve been an amazing friend to me. You’ve cared for me, looked after me, better than all the other caretakers in the palace. I want to return the favour; I mean, you did tell me you wanted to be a florist when I was ten, y’know.”

A blush streaks across Jeongin’s cheeks. “That was ages ago!” he protests. “How do you still remember that?”

Seungmin laughs and pats his friend’s shoulder. “Of course I remember,” he teases. “Your room will need a little renovation, but it’s alright. I even visited a few of the neighbours; they’re all super friendly.”

The caretaker wipes his tears away with the back of his palm, sniffing. “You’re too nice, Seungmin ah,” he insists. He leans forward to hug Seungmin once more. “Y’know… I really hope things end well for you and Changbin.”

Seungmin grimaces. “You heard of us, too?” he asks.

Jeongin yanks himself back, and rolls his eyes at the prince. “Please, why else would you sneak in an intruder? A childhood best friend at that,” he taunts. “Soooo… have y’all kissed yet?”

“What? Oh, fine, yes-”

“-and done the do-”

“-nooo!” Seungmin cries. He playfully swats at Jeongin’s arm, whining. “Why would you even think that? You’re a baby!”

“I’m nineteen, beat that old man,” Jeongin snorts. “Come on. Race you back to the front entrance.”

Surprised by Jeongin’s abrupt suggestion, Seungmin’s left in the dust as his friend dashes off with a resounding laugh. The laughter in the night air is infectious, and Seungmin catches it as he chases right after Jeongin. They giggle like a pair of schoolboys, and for once, put aside their misery, their anxiety, their history, to live in the now of the late summer night air sifting through the castle grounds, tousling up their hair and singing in the breeze.

♕♕♕

That night, Seungmin forgets why he even stepped out of his bedroom, as he’s lulled to sleep with the relief that Jeongin’s tension has eased. He’s only reminded of his initial goal when he stumbles down to the breakfast room, only to bump into the seer himself at the stairwell.

“Oh, sorry sir-” Seungmin closes his mouth shut when his eyes meet Changbin’s grandfather’s. His eyes are dark, even darker than Changbin’s, and deeply set. When their eyes meet, the seer raises his eyebrows with surprise, but they slowly lower when he recognises the boy before him. “Morning, Your Honour.”

“M-morning,” Seungmin greets. He’s reeling from the sudden state of shock, that he barely realises the seer brushing past him. When his senses come alive, though, Seungmin swivels around and blurts, “Sir, could I just have a moment with you? Please?”

The seer turns around. The expression on his face is blank, unreadable. Yet, it sends a chill down Seungmin’s spine, but he stands his ground and stares right into the seer’s eyes. “I would like to speak to you for a moment, if that’s possible,” Seungmin explains.

Changbin’s grandfather stares back at him for a long, long time, without a word leaving his lips. Seungmin’s beginning to wonder if he’s being suspended in time, until the corner of the seer’s lips curls upwards. “Alright then, little prince,” he says, beckoning Seungmin to come closer to his side.

 _Little prince._ Changbin’s nickname for him. Seungmin’s eyes widen as he scampers over to the seer’s side. “You knew all along,” he breathes. “I knew you could see into the future but… for how long?”

As they turn the corner down a long, winding corridor, Changbin’s grandfather chuckles. “The stronger the emotions, the further away I can see,” he says. “The moment the both of you met, I saw your everything with him. The nights you both would spend together in the castle grounds, in that little rose maze of yours. The days you both would spend apart, yearning to be by each other’s sides.” He tilts his head to look up at Seungmin, with the warmest smile ever, framing his lips. “You’ve breathed quite the life into my grandson, young prince.”

Seungmin stops in his tracks. The guilt pooling in the depths of his gut churn and gurgle, threatening to spill out. “I… I’m sorry,” he says. “I put your grandson through all of this. Now he’s locked up, and we don’t know what’s going to happen, and-”

“-sonny, have you forgotten that I can see into the future?” the seer snorts. “Why else have I not tried to castrate you yet?”

Seungmin blinks. Right. “But if you could see the future,” Seungmin continues, “why didn’t you just, I don’t know, told me and Changbin what was going to happen? Instead of us coming up with a plan, instead of putting our lives at risk, instead of putting _Changbin’s_ life at risk-” he pauses to take in a deep breath, “-why not just tell us, the way you told my parents?”

The seer doesn’t say anything. Instead, he places a hand on Seungmin’s shoulder and squeezes. “It hurts me, that I could’ve saved your parents four years ago,” he finally says. Tentatively, he brushes at the hair near the nape of Seungmin’s ear. “But they didn’t listen. And that’s when I realised, no matter how far I look into the future, I cannot change that future.

“But the both of you did.”

Seungmin furrows his eyebrows. “What do you mean?” he asks slowly. 

The seer smiles. “The visions I had of your coronation only started occurring recently, but that’s not why my headaches worsened. My headaches worsened because I kept seeing two futures. The recent future I saw, of your pre-coronation ball going up in flames, and…” There’s something so articulate, so delicate, about the way the seer’s eyelashes flutter as he blinks up at the prince, “... the future of you and Changbin, from when you both were young. Like I said, your emotions, as well as Changbin’s, fuelled my visions of you two ever since you were both young kids. What confused me was how I could develop a different vision from the first, with a different ending.”

Beads of perspiration spring to Seungmin’s forehead. Puzzled, he asks, “What was the ending for your recent vision, then?”

The seer shrugs. “You died, and Changbin got arrested.”

Seungmin’s eyes bug out. “What?!” 

“But hey, look at it this way,” the seer grins. “The other ending, of a vision I had so, so long ago, was of the both of you, alive and well, and living with each other until you were both old grandfathers yourselves.

“There were obstacles that I believe created a different alternate universe to what was supposed to happen,” the seer continues. “Your parents’ deaths, your sadness, and Changbin’s hesitance. I realised what you both needed wasn’t a vision — you both needed a push in the right direction, towards the right ending. And here the both of you are, in the right world, at the right time, at the right place.”

“And that push was basically… the both of us getting together?” Seungmin asks.

The seer laughs. “In a way,” he says. “After all, you helped him when he tried to kill your uncle, didn’t you?”

Seungmin nods. Despite the clarity of the entire ordeal unfolded before his very eyes, Seungmin remains as confused as ever. “But what happens next? What happens after Changbin gets released?”

Changbin’s grandfather’s eyes twinkle under the lights. To this day, Seungmin will never be able to fully fathom how his and Changbin’s eyes look so, so sharp, and yet so, so soft all at once, dark pools of pupils speckled with crystalline white. “That, young prince, is up to you and Changbin to figure out, and to decide. I’ve already given my push — it’s your turn to spur the both of you on.”

♕♕♕

And of course — the seer has never been wrong.

Changbin’s name barely leaves Seungmin’s lips when the boy launches himself at the prince the moment he bursts out of the courtroom. Changbin hugs onto him so tight, he practically crushes Seungmin’s bones. “Hey, wait, wait! I can’t breathe!” Seungmin laughs.

Changbin pulls back, with the biggest smile adorning his face. “They didn’t press charges on me. They declared I’m innocent. _I’m not going to jail,_ ” he sighs in relief. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Please believe it is,” Seungmin scoffs. “I’d rather not believe the sight of you in jail. Imagine how ugly your mugshot would be.”

Seungmin giggles as Changbin groans in despair. “You’re so evil to me,” he mumbles, burying his face into the side of Seungmin’s neck. He presses a quick kiss there, smiling against the warmth of Seungmin’s skin. The prince smiles back, as he stays there and wraps his arms around Changbin’s waist.

After hearing from the witnesses, and an in-depth analysis of the CCTV footage caught of Changbin throwing himself onto Sangchul, the judges chalked it up to self-defence. Seungmin wonders if they did that because of how no one could explain how Changbin could’ve killed Sangchul, but the superior court judge did point out that it was self defence against a premeditated murder and treason. 

Nonetheless, word of Changbin’s powers was forbidden from leaving the castle grounds, which ultimately meant that Changbin was to stay in the palace from now on. The advisors even discussed reverting Changbin and his grandparents’ unfair exile from Alta, which was to be confirmed on some later day.

For now, though, Seungmin’s simply relieved to have Changbin by his side once again.

There’s a slight cough, and the two boys separate to see the newly appointed head advisor, Hyunjin, smile at them politely. “Uh, sorry to interrupt,” he begins, “but I’d just like to inform you, Your Honour, that your coronation has been pushed forward to Sunday, if that’s alright with you. I’ll organise the meeting for tomorrow at ten in the morning.”

Seungmin nods. “Sure, thanks Hyunjin,” he replies. Once Hyunjin’s gone, and the judges have filed out of the courtroom, Seungmin and Changbin are the only two people left standing in the vacant corridor, their eyes shimmering under the sunlight filtering through the glass windows. 

Changbin cups Seungmin’s face with his hands and grins warmly. “Y’know one thing I’m really glad that came out of all this chaos?”

Seungmin hums. “What?”

“That you’re alive,” Changbin says. “And that you saved me from… from taking away someone else’s life.” He brushes his thumb over the corner of Seungmin’s lips, before tracing circles along his jaw. “I’m still confused as to how you even entered my head in the first place, though?...”

Seungmin chuckles. “Like I said, spiritual energy,” he shrugs, though his heart thrums with the uncertainty of it all. But underneath that uncertainty, there lies an emotion that runs greater in depth and breadth, that overrules the normality of things. Nothing was normal from the very beginning after that — seers, boys with magical powers and all that. 

Every day had passed like clockwork until Changbin breathed life into Seungmin’s world.

Seungmin grins, and loops his arm around Changbin’s. “You’ve never been around the castle before, right? How about a grand tour of the castle grounds out in the open under a warm summer day?” he asks.

Changbin snorts. “Don’t need to sound so polite,” he chuckles, but he still lets Seungmin lead him on, anyway.

♕♕♕

(Seungmin hadn’t realised he’d discover some things himself on this grand tour of the castle grounds. At least, when he pushed the doors to the horse stables open, he hadn’t expected to see Chan pressing Felix against the wooden wall as the two boys kissed fervently amidst the stench of horse shit. Changbin was so surprised he blew a hole in the roof.)

♕♕♕

“Does it have to be-” Seungmin gasped, “-this tight?!”

Jisung, one of the head dressmakers, grunts as he yanks on the velvet cloth wrapped around Seungmin’s waist. The latter thinks his stomach’s about to pop out of his body. “Yup!” he shrills. “Hey, you, come over here and give me a hand already!”

Seungmin groans as Jisung ropes the head advisor, Hyunjin, over to help him dislocate Seungmin’s ribs. “Okay, you gotta hold the other end as I knot it, got it?”

Hyunjin winces when he notices how tight the fabric is around Seungmin’s torso. “Your Honour, are you alright?” he offers.

 _No, I am not fucking alright!_ Seungmin wants to scream. Instead, he clamps his mouth shut and nods jerkily. “All good,” he squeaks, before the loudest “hrk!” is squeezed out from his throat as Jisung accidentally steps on his foot.

“Sorry!” Jisung blurts. Finally, he loops the fabric into the knot and pulls. Hard. Seungmin tries not to scream. “Alright! All good! You look absolutely dashing, Your Honour! Of course, all thanks to me.”

The other dressmakers in the room avert their gazes away from Jisung. 

Seungmin grimaces. “Right, your work is greatly appreciated.”

Amidst the chaos and calamity with the revelation of Sangchul’s scheme, Seungmin had forgotten all about his coronation. Thankfully, it had been postponed until after Changbin’s trial, but now that the day has come… Seungmin wonders if all that he’s done, up until now, makes it worth it.

The doors to the parlour swing open, and Chan strolls in. “Your Honour,” he greets, with the quick bow of his head. “The carriage is waiting for your arrival outside. If you may?”

“The carriage?” Seungmin blinks. 

Chan scratches the nape of his neck. “Uhhh, you know, the ball-shaped thingie that gets pulled by horses?” he offers.

Seungmin sighs. “I know what a carriage is,” he says slowly, “but I was thinking of… walking to the church.”

Silence falls in a curtain over the room. Seungmin thinks he hears Jisung gasp sharply.

Still, the amused expression on Chan’s face does show that he’s considering it. “I’ll talk to the guards about this,” he finally says. “But are you sure, Your Honour?”

Seungmin nods. “Positive,” he grins. “I mean… It's about high time I do.”

“Do what?”

The prince grins. “Meet the townsfolk.”

♕♕♕

The sunlight is what surprises Seungmin at first. Bright, blinding. Hopeful.

He steps out into the foyer, robes draping against the cobblestone walkway. Jisung would fry him for the dust lining the linen at the hem. Still, he’s only going to wear this once – right now, right here. 

After that, this could go to some auction or something. Maybe use the money to refurbish the roofs of those houses he sees over the castle walls every day, grimey from decades of pelting rain. 

On either side of him, the guards stand to attention and walk alongside him, save for the space beside him, where only Chan stands. The newly elected Head Guard grins back at Seungmin, the corner of his lip curling up mischievously in a way that somehow made him look young. Playful. Seungmin wonders why, until he remembers: this is Chan’s first time out of the castle grounds, as much a first time as it is to the prince, as to the guard.

“You think much has changed?” Chan muses.

Seungmin laughs. “I hope their lemonade hasn’t,” he replies. 

Every step becomes excruciatingly harder for the prince to contain his excitement. His heart thrums vibrantly as the gargantuan doors towering over the lines of guards and the prince slowly slide open. The blue, blue skies welcome Seungmin with open arms, with the tips of the roofs of the townspeople’s cottages and houses peeking up to the clouds. 

And all around the castle, spilling out over the walkways and roads, are the townsfolk of Alta.

Disoriented, Seungmin blinks. The sea of people instantly kicks up an uproar, cheering and clapping loudly to the beat of Seungmin’s heart. How long had it been since he’d seen the townsfolk’s children squealing, balanced on the shoulders of their parents? How long had it been since he’d seen the market sellers waving right at him at all?

The prince raises his hand and waves his arm, and the townspeople cheer impossibly louder.

Seungmin feels tears prick in his eyes, but he instantly remembers how Jisung had threatened him not to cry ‘or the makeup will leak and you’ll look like shit, Your Honour’. Seungmin has to smile at that, and he swallows the lump in his throat. He’ll save the crying for later.

The heels of his shoes click against the pathway winding from the main entrance, down along the line of cottages, all the way to the town church some distance away. It shocks him, really, to see the entire town drowning out every road and pathway, crying and ringing bells to announce the prince’s arrival. The slither of road left for him to walk in allowed him to see the townspeople up close and personal. 

The grin on Seungmin’s face is immovable. He feels ten years old again, when he would head out to the town with his mother’s hand in his own, his father’s in his other. Now, here he is again, ten years later – his hands resting by the sides of his hips as the town cheers synonymously for him. For the heir to the throne of Alta. For the boy who survived the plot against his life and was to live on as king.

 _None of this feels real,_ Seungmin thinks, _but neither does it feel like pretend._

The walk to the church is supposedly only about ten minutes, but it feels so much longer, dragged out, as he stops to speak with the townsfolk, receives a wreath of flowers from the children, and even ends up whirling around in a dance as some of the townspeople cook up a tune with their accordions and drums. 

By the time they do arrive at the church, adrenaline surges through Seungmin’s veins, as if he’s intoxicated by the sudden rush of the townspeople’s synergy. He’d missed the feeling of going out there and meeting the townsfolk, greeting them and getting caught up in their everyday routines. He smothers a grin as he’s led to the backroom, awaiting the arrival of a few more ministers.

To his great surprise, Changbin waits for him in the backroom. Seungmin gawks at him for a beat too long. It’s the first time he’s seen Changbin in a suit, after all – crisp white shirt tucked into a pair of black slacks, tie hanging loosely around his collar. Of course, he’d ditched the blazer for his ruffled overcoat. Seungmin has to stop himself from swooning when Changbin turns his head, hair tousled stylishly over his forehead. He swears he sees a little glitter dusted on his eyelids. 

“Hey.” Seungmin punches himself mentally. _Seriously? ‘Hey’?_

Changbin grins. “Hey,” he replies. That’s when Seungmin notices the bouquet of honey flowers and pansies tied beautifully together by a lace ribbon, settled in Changbin’s hands. “Uh, are you… heading out there soon?”

Seungmin turns to glance at the guards. Chan takes it as their leave, and he ushers the other guards out of the backroom. As soon as the door is clicked shut behind them, the prince swivels back around to Changbin. “Well, in a bit,” Seungmin replies. He can’t tear his gaze away from the flowers. “Were you planning to give me those after, or…?”  
Changbin gulps. Amused, Seungmin wonders when was the last time Changbin ever looked this nervous. And then his mind flickers back to the day he’d confessed liking Seungmin, and now it’s _his_ turn to swallow the lump in his throat. “I was, but I felt the need to tell you this before your coronation.”

Tentatively, Seungmin takes a dainty step forward. “Go on,” he murmurs. 

Seungmin likes the inch and a half he has over Changbin. He’s teased the latter countless times throughout their days spent together, but even as he glances down slightly at Changbin now, his heart pounds so hard against his chest, he thinks even Changbin can hear it. “I realised you’re becoming king in, what, ten or twenty minutes from now? And then I realised something else.”

Seungmin frowns. “What is it then?” he presses.

Changbin’s eyes met Seungmin’s shakily. “I, uh, never asked you to be my boyfriend,” he blurts out.

The prince’s eyes widen like saucers. “Uh…” He tries to recall their conversation from that night, and the nights that followed, and the weeks that followed. Realisation dawns upon him, and Seungmin can’t help but giggle. “Oh, gosh, we’re so bad at this,” he laughs.

Changbin laughs, too, but it’s more of a strained croak than a laugh. “Uh, so…” He gently lays the bouquet in Seungmin’s hands, and with a deep breath, says, “Regardless of the fact that you are literally becoming the king of Alta in the next half hour, and the fact that I’m just a mere commoner; regardless of the fact that you are going to be the most powerful person in the kingdom, and the fact that I will be the one locking my powers up within those four walls of that insanely huge castle of yours… Regardless of all of that, I want us to work. I hope we can work. I’ve loved you since we met, since you looked at me like… like a human, and not someone crazy with these really random powers. It started as something forbidden between us, but I believe, y’know, miracles work and stuff. And it worked out in the end, because you’re alive, and I’m alive.

“What I want to say is…” Changbin bites down on his lower lip so hard he almost draws blood. His sharp eyes tremble. “... Will you be my boyfriend, Seungmin?”

Seungmin exhales shakily. “Wow,” he grins. “That was one rollercoaster of a confession.”

Changbin groans. “Don’t ruin the moment!” he cries. “I spent three whole days planning what to say!”

Seungmin shakes his head, laughing, and leans forward. One hand gripping the bouquet, the other curling around the nape of Changbin’s neck, he presses a kiss against Changbin’s lips. This time, the sparks running through his spine burst and explode, and when they part, Seungmin feels so buzzed, electrified. “Of course, dumbass,” he smiles. “I’d be crazy if I said no, right?”

Changbin sighs in relief. “I mean, it was a possibility, right? Like, what if you were thinking about and realised that, y’know, this isn’t going to- mmph!” 

Seungmin shuts Changbin up by kissing him again. When they part again, Seungmin rolls his eyes. “Stop overthinking it,” he demands. “Who else would I love but you?”

The commoner grins, pressing their foreheads together in earnest. Every feature on Changbin’s face looks sharper, clearer up close, but there’s a clarity in the pools of his eyes that Seungmin realises wasn’t there before. “Okay,” Changbin says. “Okay. Great. Now… head out there, and make me proud, ‘kay? That crown’s yours to wear.”

“Wow, first you ask me to be your boyfriend, and now you’re rushing me outside.” Seungmin chuckles. He hands Changbin the bouquet back. “Hold onto this for me first, alright? I’ve got a throne to sit on.”

Changbin laughs, brighter and louder than he ever has before. It’s infectious, and Seungmin could’ve ended up staying in the backroom laughing for an eternity with Changbin, were it not for Hyunjin barging into the backroom red-faced wailing for Seungmin to “Hurry up, Your Honour!”

♕♕♕

The throne is much harder than Seungmin had anticipated when he landed his backside on it.

The atmosphere in the church is chilly, pin-drop silence as the room of ministers and nobles and advisors stare at him. Seungmin notices Chan and Felix standing by the sides, their hands locked together. Hyunjin, grinning proudly at him. Jisung, trying to keep it together and not blow his nose in the middle of the coronation service. Jeongin, giving him the smallest of waves, and the biggest of smiles stretching from ear to ear. 

Changbin, holding the bouquet of honey flowers and pansies, and mouthing something at him. 

As the cold gold of the crown grazes the top of Seungmin’s head, he makes out Changbin’s words.

_No one else can wear your crown._

Seungmin blinks back the tears pooling in his eyes. He remembers his mother, his father. He remembers the walks through the town. Remembers their voices, their faces, their unrelenting love for him.

_It’s yours._

“You’ll grow up to be a fine king,” his father had said.

“You’ll grow up to be loving, and kind, and brave,” his mother had said.

_It’s yours._

“Of course, you’re brave, too, Your Honour!” Chan had said.

“Of course, you’re my best friend,” Jeongin had said.

_It’s yours._

And somewhere, from the top of the church, a flurry of flower petals burst and flutter down across the room, whirling and twirling in the air as everyone in the room glances up, some in shock, some surprised, some amused. The flower petals fall in hues of pink, of yellow, of violet. Seungmin grins, and lets a flower petal land on his open palm.

He looks right at Changbin, and Changbin looks right at him. 

_It’s yours._

♕♕♕

_When people try to get you down_

_Remember that I'm here for you_

_No one else can wear your crown_

_It's yours, just yours_

_When all you wanna do is hide_

_I'm sitting there, right by your side_

_And no one else can steal your light_

_'Cause it's yours, just yours_

**Author's Note:**

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